


The Drunken Mistake

by Anonymous



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-08-04 00:06:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16335950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: You're a young up-and-coming singer based in London who has just released her first album.After a wild night at the VMAs and some heavy partying and drinking at the afterparty, you write and publish a drunken tweet about a certain celebrity and one of their friends. You only realise what you've done the next day when a slew of texts and calls wakes you up to a dreadful but expected hangover. You immediately delete the tweet, but you're left to deal with the consequences. A public apology would probably be enough to make everything go away if you hadn't been invited to a movie premiere where said celebrity is most certainly going to be.You decide that the best course of action will be to try and avoid them, but your plans almost never go the way you want them to.





	1. Never Tweet Your Deepest Fantasies

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first dip into Reader Fanfiction, and it is also unbeta-ed so I hope you can forgive any overly awful mistakes.  
> Find me on Tumblr @writerunsolved.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of a really bad hangover, your manager helps you hash out an action plan.  
> Then, your calendar ruins your week.

The light streaming in through the window right onto your face, though annoying, wasn’t what woke you up. 

It was instead the insistent vibration of your phone, sitting deceivingly innocently under your pillow and making your brain rattle in your skull. The frankly inordinate amount of alcohol you had consumed the night before certainly wasn’t helping, either.

Resigned to having to face your hangover eventually, willing or not, you finally took out the phone and through bleary eyes, you saw you had a disconcerting number of missed phone calls and messages from your manager; in addition, your phone kept blowing up with social media notifications in your hand.

Panicked and confused, you tried to remember the night before.

You’d left the house quite early in the afternoon, dressed to the nines and wearing make-up, all thanks to your stylist Nadia and your make-up and hair expert Linda, and a car had picked you up to bring you to the VMAs where the red carpet had been waiting for you. When you’d first started attending big events like this, you had soon realised what a long day they made: the red carpet usually started pretty early in the afternoon, and by the time the actual event took place you would have been standing on high heels for several hours already. You’d grown tired of wearing them almost immediately, so now when you attended events of this kind you would usually swear off the stilettos and go for a trendy pair of flats.

This time had been different, though. It was an important night, and you wanted to look your best. Moreover, it had been a while since you’d worn heels, and you’d forgotten the actual pain they caused you. So, as with any other event, you’d been dropped off at the venue and walked the red carpet while a never-ending number of pictures of you was being taken and after what felt like an entire day and night, you’d finally gotten off your feet and taken your seat in the audience, not too far away from the stage.

You could still feel the phantom pain of the shoes where they’d scraped off your skin behind your ankles, you reached your hand to lightly touch the spot and moaned in pain, both because of your feet and because of the sharp pang the movement caused to your hungover brain.

You laid back down with your head on your pillow and tried to go through the rest of the night. You immediately remembered winning the award for Best New Artist and happiness pervaded you once again, you still couldn’t believe that had happened! You sought to remember where you’d put the award. You looked for it around the room and noticed it on the floor, right next to the door, propped to keep it open. You reflexively slapped your forehead in reprimand - which only worsened the headache -  _ that was no way to treat your first important award! _

After receiving your reward, and hopefully not making a fool of yourself during your acceptance speech, things got a little muddled. You remembered wanting to celebrate and leaving with some of the guys in your staff and some other artists who’d been attending the event. Drinks had begun flowing, which was exactly why your memories were so hazy.

You attempted to squeeze more memories out, but you’d drank so much your brain must have gone into overdrive at some point. Normally, you weren’t one to overdo it with alcohol, but it had been a special night and the award had come as a huge surprise, so it hadn’t been hard to convince you to make toast after toast. Everyone around you had been having fun, it was only natural for you to get carried away with the euphoria of your first real award.

You couldn’t remember anything else after that, so you still had no idea what the reason for your social media blow-up might be. You reassured yourself with the thought that it would just be some kind of article full of embarrassing pictures of you completely dishevelled and visibly drunk. Sure, it wasn’t ideal and it would leave you ashamed for the rest of time, but it would blow over in relatively no time when one of the Kardashians would be spotted buying a pair or jeans or something equally trivial. You shot a quick text to your manager Nina to let her know you were awake and alive, and resolved to find out what was going on as soon as possible. You were just about to open up Twitter when another text from Nina made the matter that much more pressing. It read: “You need to take that tweet down RN!!!!!!”.

You immediately sat up, headache be damned, and scrambled to open the Twitter app. Without bothering to scroll through your timeline, you went directly to your own profile and right there it was, mocking you and punishing you for your questionable life choices, your most retweeted and liked tweet:

Dread immediately filled your lungs, you wanted to close your eyes and stop seeing what you’d done but the sheer disbelief kept them wide open, staring unblinkingly at the screen while your brain tried to process what was happening.

You couldn’t fathom doing something so stupid and reckless. It was one thing to be caught after a night of enthusiastic celebrations, but involving others in the show business industry was an entirely different ordeal. Bigger celebrities than you had gone down for much less and putting your whole career at risk because of one night of heavy drinking was the stupidest thing you could have ever done. Seemingly on their own, your fingers started scrolling through the responses you’d gotten and you could see people responding with memes, some even hilarious, but you weren’t really in the mood for a laugh at the moment. Others loudly announced having taken screenshots and having saved the tweet on the internet archive. You weren’t exactly surprised, the internet  _ was _ forever after all. Even though several hours had passed since you’d posted it, and it was obviously too late for it not to have already spread all over social media, you deleted the tweet without a second thought. 

You exited the app and called Nina.

“Jesus, finally! Have you taken that shit down?!” was her answer.

You brushed back your hair restlessly and replied with a sigh “Yes.  _ God _ Nina, that was so stupid!! What am I going to do? This is a disaster, right? How could I possibly recover from this?! And I just got my first award, too, why did I have to drink so mu-” 

“Honey, honey, listen to me. You need to calm down.” she interrupted you “People seem to have taken it as a huge joke, and there was no public reaction from neither Chris Hemsworth nor Tom Hiddleston.” she laughed nervously “I know it was up for several hours, but it’s good that you deleted it, and you will have to publish an apology as soon as possible.”

You took a deep breath and tried to unclench your jaw. Finally, you closed your eyes and said “Okay, so that’s our action plan for now? A public apology? And then what?”

“And then we hope the Buzzfeed articles will be humorous rather than accusing, and we keep on making music, ok?” you could feel and picture her warm smile through the phone “Seriously, we can get through this. Your career has just started and I have no intention of letting you go just yet.”

You’d really lucked out with Nina, she was such a supportive and incredible woman. As soon as she’d discovered one of your songs online, she’d seen a talent in you that not even you’d known you had. You felt a wave of guilt come over you, this was going to affect her too. “I’m so sorry, Nina. I shouldn’t have put you through this.” You shook your head resignedly “It’s one thing to make a mistake, but to let it reflect so badly on everyone around me… I really hope you can forgive me.”

“Oh, sweetheart…” he voice was kind “Don’t say that. I told you, we’ll recover from this. It’s not as bad as it feels right now, and don’t doubt for one minute that I will eternally make fun of you for it.” 

That pulled a laugh out of you, she joined in then continued “Tom Hiddleston, though, really? I can understand Chris Hemsworth, he has muscles for days, but I would never have guessed you would be into the unassuming British type.”

A blush stained your cheeks, you were grateful she wasn’t there to see it or she would have never let you live it down. “Hey now,” you started defensively but with mirth “he’s cultured and polite. Plus have you seen his pecs? I bet you haven’t, you huge lesbian.”

Nina let out a rambunctious laugh that lasted several seconds, then said “Oh well, I guess you’re right.”

There was a beat of silence or two, then Nina concluded “I really have to go now, honey.” you never got tired of the pet name “As soon as you’re done writing down an apology, send it to me and I’ll let you know if you’re okay to publish it.”

You nodded, then remembering she couldn’t see it, you told her “Will do. Thank you so much, Nina. See you soon.”

“Later, sweetie.” with that she hung up.

You sat there for another beat, legs still half-covered by the duvet and phone in hand. You took a huge breath that filled you up from your shoulders to your abdomen, trying to gather the energy to face what was showing all the signs to be an interminably long day.

Your head was swarming with possible ways to go about apologising, you wondered whether to address part of it directly to the objects of your tweet or if it would be better to keep it vague and only concentrate on your behaviour. On one hand, you felt like you owed an apology to Tom Hiddleston and Chris Hemsworth for objectifying them like that, on the other you were conscious of the fact that that wasn’t the only reason why you were so ashamed of the tweet. 

You regretted drinking so much. In hindsight, you realised that you’d put yourself in danger by being so reckless and that if you intended to pursue your career seriously and to win more prestigious awards, you couldn’t resort to that kind of behaviour again. At least it was a lesson learnt. 

You put those thoughts aside, dwelling on guilt wasn’t going to help matters. For now, it would be better to concentrate on the task at hand and to look to the future. Lesson learnt, lesson ended.

You got up from the bed and crossed the room barefoot, on the way outside the bedroom you grabbed the award from where it was still standing up propped against the door and brought it with you to the kitchen through the dining room. The first thing you’d done with the earnings from your first album under your new record label had been to buy a small apartment in a building not too far away from central London. One of the things you’d hated the most about renting was the uncertainty of not having a real home that was your own, the possibility that at any moment you would have to pack up all your stuff and move away and start all over again. Furthermore, you loved reading and owning books, and when you were still renting it was impossible for you to maintain a decent library. 

You thought back to first joining your sister in this great big city, and how terrified of the future you were. To be fair, the fear had never really gone away, but that was just the kind of person you were. Your sister had already been living in London for several years, she had a great job and all her life together, and she’d been pushing for you to move here too almost since the beginning. You had preferred to wait, though. You’d only just finished university and felt like you needed more time to figure yourself out, but eventually, the time had finally felt right and now here you were.

The small planner you’d been looking for was exactly where you expected it to be on the kitchen counter. You’d left it there before leaving for the VMAs and in it was basically your whole life. You had a detailed calendar of all your work and social commitments and several blank pages to use should the need arise. That was exactly why you’d been looking for it. You knew the apology would have to be published online and rewritten digitally, but pen and paper always helped you to better put your head in order.

You put down the award you still had in your hand right next to the planner and started idly flipping through this month's appointments, searching for a blank page to use and already wording the beginning of the apology in your head. You’d calmed down quite a bit since first waking up, and even your hangover headache seemed to be dwindling down on its own, so you felt much more centred about your current situation. And then you saw it-

_ September 4th _ \- precisely one week from now -  _ “New Marvel movie premiere” _ .

It came back to you in a flash, and really it was entirely your fault for forgetting, that in a week you would have to attend the premiere of a new Marvel film for the soundtrack of which one of your new songs had been chosen. How could you have possibly forgotten having written a song for a Marvel movie?! Alcohol was officially cancelled. 

You felt a wave of nausea hit you, either from the residual hangover or from the realisation that you would come face to face with the flesh-and-blood consequences of your actions in a week from now. You couldn’t remember specifically what movie the London premiere was for, but even if it wasn’t another Thor movie there was simply no universe in which Tom Hiddleston and Chris Hemsworth wouldn’t be attending.

You grabbed a glass from where it was drying on the side of the sink and filled it to the brim with the coldest water that came from the tap, and while you were downing it in one single go, you made a resolution.

There was absolutely no way for you to skip the premiere, but you had to avoid Tom Hiddleston and Chris Hemsworth at any and all cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	2. When I Give Word, We Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night of the premiere keeps drawing closer, and life doesn't stop for anyone.  
> You're ready to execute your plan, but an unexpected encounter might just throw a wrench into the works.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit that this chapter got away from me. I apologise if this is a long and boring mess, but I would be lying if I said I didn't have a lot of fun writing it.  
> Unfortunately for all of you, I really do love secondary characters.

The first thing you wanted to do was call Nina again. Every time you felt lost, especially when it came to work-related problems, she was the one you would go to. But you’d just talked to her and she’d mentioned being busy, and after all the trouble you’d already given her so far, you really didn’t want to disturb her again.

You found it weird that she hadn’t mentioned anything about the premiere, it would have definitely been relevant, seen the content of your tweet. You could only imagine she’d either forgotten or willfully avoided the subject so as not to put more pressure on you. You couldn’t blame her, had you not flipped through your calendar, that strategy might have even worked.

For now, you had to put on your big girl pants and deal with this whole situation. You also needed to put on actual pants, because you were still in your underwear.

Your brain just couldn’t catch a break today. It was true that most of what was happening to you had come about by your own hand, but still, life really needed to slow down a little bit.

Delayed by the new thoughts that the reminder of the premiere had brought you, and losing all purpose and concentration for the apology that was to be written, you decided you might as well make good of the time you would need to calm down a little more and take a long, relaxing, cleansing shower. You left the planner open as it was on the kitchen counter, VMAs award next to it, and just went for it.

You took it slow, and by the time you’d cleaned and dressed up, you had found a new resolve for the apology.

It wouldn’t be completely wrong to assume that you were in denial about the Marvel premiere, but you’d already made a decision, and there was no use in wasting any more time thinking about it. The apology took absolute precedence, you couldn’t let another day go by, this whole situation needed to be solved as soon as possible. After that, you could even go online and see what hilarious things people were saying about the whole ordeal. It could seem weird to anyone else, but people making jokes about something that was giving you anxiety was actually a huge help to keep the dramatics you were capable of to a minimum. Sometimes you just needed a call back to earth and out of your own head. Besides, it wouldn’t do to take yourself too seriously.

With your phone already in hand, you grabbed the planner and a pen and brought both to the dining room. Before you sat down to actually do what you were supposed to this time, you turned on the small stereo by the window to which you’d hooked up a USB device with your current favourite music.

When _More Than Words_  started playing, you left your phone on the low table in the middle of the room, took the planner in hand, sat cross-legged on the sofa, and finally stopped stalling.

As much as you’d thought about it both before and during the shower, starting wasn’t actually all that easy. You should probably go for something simple but impactful, no excuses only apologies, and most importantly: it had to be sincere. You weren’t worried about the last one. You really were mortified by what you’d done, and you were sure you could let that come across in some way or another.

You wrote down a couple of lines, mostly about what had been going on at the time of the tweet -  just to give it context - and when you were done with that, the rest of it seemed to come out on its own. You talked about how inappropriate it was to use such language, and about how irresponsible your drinking had been. You thanked anyone who would still be supporting you even after what had happened and even spent a couple of words for Tom and Chris, but you didn’t go at length about it. You didn’t really want to leave that particular part of the apology to the internet, you’d actually been thinking of asking Nina if there was any way to send a personal apology their way as that seemed the most proper approach to go about it. But it wasn’t important now.

When you’d finished, three or four more songs had gone by. You reread the whole thing and made a couple of corrections here and there but after that, you were done.

You put the planner, still open on the page you’d just finished writing, next to the phone on the small table and stretched out of the hunched position you’d inadvertently assumed while drafting. You then picked both the planner and the phone up with the intent of rewriting all of it down on the small device so you could send a quick e-mail to Nina for her confirmation. When you unlocked the screen you realised you’d completely missed your phone vibrating, as you had a new text from Nina herself.

You opened it up, she was asking you to meet her in a couple of hours at a café not too far from your apartment and to send her confirmation. So you did. The café really was very close, you could easily get there on foot, so you still had time to cook something and placate your grumbling stomach that had been requesting food since halfway through writing down the apology.

You made a quick strategy for the two hours you had before the meeting, you definitely had time for some pasta and, having already taken a shower, it wouldn’t take long to get dressed either.

With no more delay, you decided you would bring the planner with you and let Nina read it over coffee and simply got on with the rest of the day.

-

You left your apartment wearing a t-shirt and a scarf, a thin cardigan all bundled up in your bag. Even though it was warmer than usual for being almost September in London, it wasn’t exactly all that hot, and you could feel a chilly wind start to pick up for the evening.

You started walking, it would only take you a couple of turns and around fifteen minutes to get to the Caffé Piccolo where you would be meeting Nina. The way there was slightly extended when you crossed paths with a couple of your neighbours supposedly coming back from work.

You waved at Laura who lived on the third floor with her cute Collie puppy called Boss, and stopped to exchange a couple of words with your next-door neighbour Javed and his daughter Sashi, who was still wearing her school uniform. She smiled at you with the biggest tooth gap, one of her front teeth had apparently just fallen yesterday night and she was determined to tell you the riveting - and long! - tale of how it had happened, but Javed stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder and an “I’m sure our lovely neighbour is in a rush.”

You thanked him softly and promised Sashi you would see her for tea very soon, and she could tell you all about it then.

After Sashi and Javed, the walk to the café was pretty quiet. You’d been to what felt like hundreds of coffee shops before finally settling on Caffé Piccolo. You were ready to swear on your life that their coffee was the best in the whole of London. Even though they specialized in espresso - or simply coffee, like the owners often insisted -, they’d taken up several of the more eccentric drinks that one would usually associate with a bigger chain.

Caffé Piccolo was a small family business, the owners were a quirky Italian couple who’d been madly in love for over 30 years and had decided, with the help of their business school graduate son Andrea, to open up the place and bring true Italian coffee to London. They often gushed about what a genius Andrea was and how the success of their establishment was all thanks to him, but you were sure coffee that good would be enough to make anyone rich on its own.

You made the last turn and looked over at the entrance to the café where Nina was checking her phone and waiting for you in front of the big window next to the door. She looked up and noticed you too, you waved at her and then looked both ways before crossing the street to get to her.

When you finally reached her she greeted you with a big beautiful smile and a tight hug. You revelled in it.

You hugged her back enthusiastically and when you separated, you kissed her cheek and said: “It is so great to see you! I really need a friendly face right now.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you too,” she replied, then asked you “Did you get the apology done?”

Straight into business as usual, but you loved her for it. You shook your head, laughing gently, and answered “Yes, yes. But please, coffee first.” With that, you held the door open for her and then followed her inside.

Andrea was the one at the counter for the day, and as soon as he saw you he greeted you with a loud and affectionate “ _Ehi, bellezza_!” but the moment he saw Nina he reined it in and corrected himself with a sombre wave before going back to the next client.

For some unknown reason, Andrea was really intimidated by Nina. You could kind of understand why, Nina had a huge presence, but she also had impeccable manners and that included waitstaff. Oh well, this wasn’t really the time to worry about it.

Nina and you sat down at a small table next to the window and started chatting while waiting for Andrea to get your order.

You were just about to pull the small planner out of your bag when Nina rushed “So, let’s see it.” extending an expecting hand for it.

“Nina!” you sighed, entertained “I literally just sat down.”

You finally fished the planner out and opened it to the page with the apology, offering it to her obligingly. Without another word, she began reading.

You looked at her slightly bent head, trying to discern a reaction from her features, but she gave you nothing aside from some pensive "Hmm"s here and there. When she was finished, she looked back at you and, without being prompted, began reading aloud from the planner she had now lifted from the table.

"In light of what has recently happened after my win at the VMAs, I feel like I need to apologise for my behaviour and for what I published here on Twitter the night of the event."

She stopped for a second, you started unconsciously bumping your leg up and down with nervousness. Nina looked you in the eyes and then back to the page and continued.

"I realise that what I wrote was grossly inappropriate, both towards Tom Hiddleston and Chris Hemsworth and to everyone who has been supporting me in this amazing time of my life. I could use the celebration of the award as an excuse for my drinking that night, but I firmly believe that I need to own up to what I said and to the fact that it was reckless of me to drink so incredibly much. I realise that, as someone in the public eye, I should have known better and set a better example."

Nina paused again, by then you had started chewing on your thumbnail and you felt like you were vibrating out of your skin. Sometimes you really hated Nina's poker face. Before picking up again, she scrunched her lips in an impressed and slightly entertained smile. She knew exactly what being unable to read her was doing to you, and she enjoyed it greatly.

"In conclusion, I want to say that no kind of objectification is acceptable. As a woman, I am aware of how it feels to be on the other side of the issue, so I believe that my words are made that much worse by this fact. I hope I can regain everyone's trust, and I promise to try and be the best self I can be from now on."

She set the planner back on the table and declared: "Well done, sweetie." breaking into a huge grin.

You sighed in relief, your leg stopping its restless motion, and put both hands on the table in front of you, deflating. Exactly then, Andrea approached to take your order.

"Hello again, _bellezza_. Hello... Nina." he eyed her apprehensively, then looked back to you "What can I get you?"

You hadn't even thought about what to drink, so it was a welcome respite when Nina took over with a "We'll have a pot of black tea and two cups, please".

Andrea nodded briefly, noting the order down, and then you and Nina were alone again.

"As I was saying," she preceded you "Good job!"

You smiled and then asked her "Does anything need to be changed?"

"Oh, not at all, sweetheart. It's perfectly alright."

You nodded and went to grab the planner to put it back in your bag, but you stopped when she started "Although," at that, you paused "I'm surprised by how little time you took to apologise to the real victims." she accompanied the last word with exaggerated finger-quotes.

"Ah yes," you replied, finally grabbing the planner and getting on with putting it back "About that..." you looked back to Nina and went on "I wanted to ask you if there was any way to maybe send a direct apology to them?"

Her expression seemed puzzled so you continued "It felt a bit..." you searched for the right word "...indelicate to leave that specific apology to social media. I really feel like I owe them something more personal."

She nodded, "Well, yeah, I guess that could be arranged. Did you have something specific in mind?"

You thought about it for a second or two then answered: "I thought I could definitely write them a card, and maybe send a gift basket or something of the sort?"

She smiled knowingly and recited "Always better to atone-"

"With gifts." you finished for her, then laughed.

"And who might you have learned that from?" it was a rhetorical question, of course. It had been one of the first things you'd heard Nina say, on the second day you'd met her, and ever since, you had heard it so many times you had lost count. It seemed like there was always someone screwing up at the music label. At least in that, you weren't alone.

"Well, from the best, obviously." you conceded. Then you continued "In all seriousness, though, I really do think I owe them a serious apology. And I assumed a present wouldn't hurt the cause."

She nodded in agreement, then excitedly exclaimed "Oh! I have an idea! Wine!"

"Wine?"

"Yes, wine." she replied, "Hiddleston seems like a classy one, and I'm sure Hemsworth wouldn't despise a nice bottle either."

"That is a great idea. You're a genius, Nina."

"Did you ever doubt it, honey?" you looked straight at each other for a moment, and then started laughing at the same time, all the seriousness that might have been there immediately gone.

Just then, Andrea approached the table carrying a tray with your order. He set it down between you and Nina and asked: "What are we laughing about?"

Nina took over again, looked at him and answered: "Oh, our famous singer here got herself in some trouble she needs to make up for."

You looked at her, ready to fake outrage, but you stopped yourself when you noticed Andrea looking at her intently. Wait a minute, was that…? You couldn't believe it! Andrea was definitely into Nina.

He was looking at her with a small, shy smile, but when a couple of seconds had passed and nobody had said anything else, he seemed to recoil with a blush and remember you were still there, the moment completely gone. He looked between the two of you self-consciously and left with a "Well, here you go ladies."

You almost grimaced, this probably meant you would have to tell him Nina was exclusively into women at some point.

You called a half-hearted "Thank you!" after him and looked at Nina frowning in sympathy. She seemed to have noticed Andrea's predicament too because before you could say another word, she stopped you with a finger to her lips and a dejected smile. You guessed you could drop it for now.

You started pouring the tea for both of you when she went ahead "So, it's decided. You can write and tweet the apology whenever you're ready, honey. The sooner the better, of course."

"Yes, yes, I'll get it done by tonight."

You started sipping on your tea, relaxing back in your chair, when suddenly you remembered the other problem that had arisen earlier in the day.

"I almost forgot!" you sat up and put your cup of tea down "The new Marvel premiere is this Wednesday, did you know?!"

Nina avoided answering by taking a sip, a somewhat guilty expression settling on her face, and looked at you from above the rim of her cup. When she realised there was no getting out of replying, she set it back down and closed her eyes with a pained sigh.

"I know, I know..." she opened them again "I didn't forget. And yes, before you ask, I was trying to avoid the subject."

You let out an aggrieved moan and hunched over the edge of the table, putting your face between your hands. "Ugh! How am I gonna survive this?!"

Nina stretched her hand and patted you gently on your left shoulder, then said: "It'll be fine, sweetheart, there'll be so many people I'm sure you won't even have to look at either of them."

You lifted up your head and pointed at her decisively "That is exactly my plan!" you straightened up and continued resolutely "I'm gonna walk the red carpet, talk to the people I gotta talk to, and I'll avoid the both of them like the plague until the screening is over."

Nina retracted her hand and nodded solemnly "That sounds like a solid plan. I'm positive it'll be alright." she lifted her cup to her mouth with both hands and before taking another sip she continued "Now, let's talk about your schedule for next month."

And with that, the subject was changed.

-

By the time you and Nina had parted ways, a couple of hours had passed and you’d managed to settle on the content of the apology that would be sent to the two actors in your name but through the agency. In the end, you’d decided to follow Nina’s suggestion of gifting them wine, too. Moreover, by the time you went to bed, you'd sent the apology out into the vastness of the internet, both through Twitter and other social media.

The rest of the week was quite uneventful, as far as your daily life permitted.

The day after you and Nina met, she let you have another day off with the excuse that, because of the whole Twitter ordeal, you hadn’t really had the time to truly enjoy your hard-earned award. You took advantage of it by inviting your sister over for dinner and spending most of the day cooking an elaborate meal. It had been quite a while since the two of you had had a chance to catch up, and you knew she was always happy when you cooked for her as she wasn’t a very dedicated cook herself, so your cooking became the rare occasion for her to have a taste of home.

If the day right after meeting Nina was relaxing and even boring at times, the rest of the week seemed to fly by in an instant, the weekend included. You had several meetings at the music label, mostly regarding some promotional material that you had to either approve of or pose for. They felt like long working days, but they were so full that when the night of the premiere finally came, you’d barely had a chance to come to terms with it. In the end, it had kind of sneaked up on you.

As it had happened every other day of a big event, that afternoon your apartment came alive with the crew that was tasked with preparing you for the evening.

Your stylist Nadia had managed to borrow a gorgeous purple gown by Marchesa, from the Fall/Winter 2018 Notte Collection. The gown had an elegant but fresh feeling to it. Its crossed collar left your shoulders uncovered, giving the look a youthful shine, but the deep purple extending from the top and getting lighter towards the edge of the skirt elevated its elegance and gave you a distinguished aura. To top it all off, a scattering of lucent beads hand-sewn all across the dress seemed to project you among the starry sky.

Even though you would have loved to keep it after the premiere, the gown was to be given back, as was often the case with dresses worn at one-time events. Still, you were grateful to be able to wear it, even for just one night, and it wouldn’t really belong in your wardrobe anyway. Garments like this one were rarely worn twice.

You eyed the dress from the corner of your eye to where it was hanging down from the tall mirror you’d brought to the living room for the fitting. It wasn’t yet time to put it on, Linda had just finished on your hair and was presently starting on your make-up. You contemplated taking a quick look at your phone to distract yourself from the nervousness that was starting to mount in your stomach, but opted against it when Linda spoke.

“So, are you excited for tonight?”

You couldn’t control the expression that came over your features, a dissonance of grimace and elation. Linda must have seen it too - she was looking straight at you and applying foundation after all - because she barely managed to suppress a smile, probably trying to spare your feelings.

It was alright, though, the situation was indeed quite absurd. Had you not been the one in the middle of it all, you would have probably found it at least a little funny, too.

You closed your eyes when she ordered you to and finally answered “I certainly am. Concerned, too.”

When you opened them again, she was directing a questioning look at you, to which you expanded “I’m definitely honoured to have been featured on the soundtrack. I am perfectly conscious of how lucky I am, seeing how much of a newbie I am in this industry.”

“Well, I guess that’s true,” she agreed, but then went on “However, your album has really been a huge success so far, so it’s only natural that the higher-ups at Marvel took notice. It is a very topical choice, don’t you think?”

Linda was always so logical that anybody who didn’t really know her might have taken her statement as a mere observation of fact, but you could hear the underlying compliment.

“You might be right, yes.” you nodded with a small smile.

“And… Hm…” she hesitated “What about the _other_ thing?” she finally pressed on.

“The... other... thing?”

She looked behind you to the kitchen where Nina was having an animated phone conversation as if that was supposed to explain what she was referring to. You followed her line of sight, then turned back to her. When she realised you had no idea what she was talking about, she explained: “You know, the thing with Twitter and those two actors?”

Only Linda could be so thoroughly disinterested in learning the names of two big shots of the movie industry.

“Ah, _that_ thing.” you closed your eyes again, and she went on to apply eyeshadow with a soft brush. You continued “There isn’t really that much I can do about it at this point. It’s definitely been giving me some degree of anxiety”, you conceded “But aside from apologising and trying not to come in contact with them at all tonight, I don’t have any more of a plan.”

You opened your eyes when you noticed the brush gone from your eyelids and that she was keeping strangely silent. Linda met you with an incredulous expression that told you exactly how little faith she had in your brilliant plan.

You looked back at her defiantly and without a word for a couple of seconds, then you both started laughing.

“Oh, shush you!” you warned her jokingly.

“I didn’t say anything!” she replied with an entertained shrug and laughter still on her lips. Then she got back to your makeup and that was that of that conversation.

About one more hour went by, your nervousness swelling with every passing minute, and it was finally time to put on the dress and get going.

It was a testament to how good a stylist Nadia was that she hadn’t even needed to meet you for a fitting to make the perfect adjustments to the dress so that it would suit you flawlessly.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, at what an incredible job Nadia and Linda had done with you. Every time they helped you get ready for an event, the end result was such an amazing one that your eyes glazed over a bit with unshed tears.

You turned back to them and extended your arms, they didn’t hesitate to meet you in the hug.

“You look dazzling, honey,” said Nadia.

“Absolutely stunning,” agreed Linda, nodding fervently.

“All thanks to you,” you replied.

“Yes, yes, this is all very moving,” Nina interjected, finally off the phone but still quite spirited “I don’t mean to be a moment ruiner, but we really need to get going.”

You nodded and grabbed the small white clutch Nadia had chosen to complete your outfit from the dining room table, inside it was your mobile phone and house keys. You turned back to wave them goodbye and opened the front door.

Nina followed you, calling back a quick “I’ll see you there later.” to Nadia and Linda, and closing the door behind herself.

When you were finally seated in the sleek car that had come to pick you up, Nina right next to you, the weight of what was about to happen hit you all at once. The ride felt deceivingly short so you barely had any time to process it all before the car had stopped and someone was opening the door for you.

The red carpet was a rush of flashing cameras and questions from journalists. Everything felt so hectic that you didn't have any time at all to dwell on your worry. You walked the first section of it slowly - as you’d been instructed to - so that the photographers could capture your outfit in its entirety. Then came the media portion of it. You stopped every two steps for varying amounts of times and answered questions on the song for the movie, the designer of your outfit, how excited you were, and even your Twitter debacle once or twice. That part wasn’t as enjoyable but luckily, the journalists who asked about it were quite kind to you.

You finally got to the end of the long line of journalists after what felt like an entire hour and were taking advantage of the respite when someone touched you gently on the shoulder once, and a male voice greeted from behind you “Hi!”

You turned around fixing a polite smile on your face, expecting to see one of the stewards waiting to inform you of where to go next, and started to greet them back with an enthusiastic “Hey!” However, the word died on your lips and the smile on your face froze and contorted into what must have been a terrified grimace when you finally realised who exactly had greeted you.

It was no steward.

Standing right there in front of you was none other than Thomas William Hiddleston, a radiant and warm smile dancing on his lips and directed straight at you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowie! I sure took a risk not introducing Hiddleston until the end of the chapter, huh?! Thank for being patient with me and reading this far!
> 
> I want to take this opportunity to thank everyone for leaving comments and kudos, and for following the Tumblr account linked to this story. I really, truly appreciate the feedback.
> 
> It had been several years since I wrote fanfiction before starting on this, so I was very insecure about what the process would look like, but hearing from the people who did me the honour of reading this has been wonderful and unexpected and I truly am grateful.  
> I hope the rest of this work won't disappoint.


	3. Is It Denial If You Really Believe It?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You try to get ahead of a rough start, but a little more faith in people might have saved you a lot of worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was delayed quite a bit as this month has been unusually busy for me. I hope you guys enjoy it, and as always: thank you for still being here!

You turned towards him with your entire body, but not before trying to regain your composure and attempting to smile once again. You managed to appear almost natural, if somewhat strained.

Tom seemed momentarily taken aback, but his dazzling smile didn’t falter.

“H-hey!” you tried again “How do you do?” You wanted to slap yourself. What was this, a work meeting?

Well, you guessed it could almost be considered one in some kind of way. You had certainly been invited because of your work with music, but Tom was definitely not your boss, and that level of politeness might be a little too much even for him.

You could see Nina behind him. The traitor was actually looking back at you and completely ignoring the cry for help you were giving her through a pointed look, and smiling mischievously at your predicament. Oh, this would not be forgiven.

You internally made peace with your destiny - all of this took just a few seconds - and when Tom spoke again he didn’t seem to have noticed the quick exchange between you and her.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” he said, offering his hand and continuing “I’m Tom.”

You shook his hand and before you could stop yourself you just blurted “Yeah, I know!” then corrected yourself “I-I mean, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m-”

“The famous singer I’ve been hearing about.” you could swear that was a smirk on his face.

In your head, you thanked him for ignoring your initial blunder. Your hands separated, and just when you were about to reiterate your written apology in person, he spoke again.

“I wanted to thank you for the card,” he started “and the wine. You really shouldn’t have, but I certainly appreciated the Fiorano Rosso Ludovisi.”

“I’m really happy to hear that. My manager Nina helped me choose the wine.” You braced yourself and gathered some courage before continuing “And I definitely think I should have.”

He shook his head slightly, you were sure he was going to brush off your apology, but you needed to say it so you preceded him “I’m really sorry. What I wrote was so distasteful, and no amount of wine or apology cards can show how mortified I am.”

He smiled kindly and brushed your arm with a gentle touch “It’s not as severe as you’re making it out to be, I assure you.” his intent gaze pinned you to the spot and made you feel like you couldn’t miss one second of what was going on in his eyes, although you weren’t sure exactly what you were seeing in them. “I have seen much worse said about me online, trust me.” he chuckled and the serious moment was broken.

You giggled with him and were just about to reply when a boisterous voice made you both turn.

“If it isn’t the songbird who likes tweeting drunk.” Behind Tom was Chris Hemsworth, accompanied by his gorgeous wife. She rolled her eyes at his husband’s pun but smiled lovingly.

They joined you in a couple of steps, they had just finished with the long line of journalists too. When they reached you, Tom greeted Chris with a brief hug and kissed his wife on both her cheeks, then, as the one who knew them, he started on the introductions.

“This is Elsa and this is Chris.” You shook both their hands while he continued. “Elsa, Chris, this is-”

“The woman who wants to have a threesome with you and me.” Chris finished for him, a smug grin on his face and looking first to Tom and then to you. You turned a deep shade of red and lowered your eyes briefly. Your glance skipped over Tom’s face before looking back at Chris and you were almost sure he was blushing too, albeit some several shades of red lighter than you. You realised Chris was definitely going to tease you about this and you guessed you kinda deserved it, so you resignedly accepted your fate and smiled back. Elsa slapped him weakly on the arm and shushed him jokingly with an “Oh, be nice now.”

“What? I usually get asked for dinner before any sexual advances.” even though Chris’s teasing made you flush with embarrassment once more, his jokes made the whole situation a bit easier to deal with.

You covered your face with your hand, then with an over-dramatic sigh, you retorted “Ah! Of course! I knew I was forgetting something!”

Elsa laughed loudly and unexpectedly, and you smiled brightly at her. Chris followed her suit.

Probably feeling like he should be the one rescuing you, Tom tried to spin the conversation and told Chris “I’m sure the wine was worth the trouble.” You sent him a grateful look and he reciprocated with a small smile.

“The wine was so amazing!” Elsa replied in Chris’ place “If I got that everytime someone tweeted sexual advances at Chris, I’d start tweeting them myself!”

An unflattering snort unwittingly left your mouth, Elsa seemed delighted at your reaction. Chris squeezed an affectionate hand on her waist with a look of utter and adoring devotion in his eyes. You felt slightly out of place at the intimacy of the gesture and when you averted your eyes and looked at Tom you had the sense he was thinking the same, although you could tell by the tiny smile on his lips that he took extreme joy in seeing them so happy.

It pained you to break the moment, but you didn’t want the silence to get awkward so you changed the topic, “As I was telling Tom before, I want to take this chance to apologise in person. I’m really sorry for my behaviour, I didn’t mean any disrespect but that doesn’t change what I wrote.”

 “Oh, wow! You make it sound so bad,” Chris laughed “It’s really not that big of a deal.”

 “I agree,” Elsa added “It’s alright, we didn’t think too much of it. We were actually shocked by the card and the gift.” She looked at Chris, seeking agreement, then back to you “You were incredibly polite, but there was no need,” she reassured you some more.

 “I really felt like that was the right thing to do.” You didn’t know what else to say, when an idea struck you, “Actually, I would love it if you’d let me take you all to dinner!”

“Really, that’s too much,” Tom replied with a warm smile directed straight at you. Chris was looking at him with what seemed like a concentrated and knowing expression, but you couldn’t be sure. Tom was about to say more but before he could continue, Chris interrupted him.

“That is a brilliant idea!” he nodded fervently. Elsa looked at him confusedly but didn’t say anything, so he continued “However, Elsa and I are actually going back to Australia in a couple of days.”

You were about to suggest trying to schedule something for a later date, but Chris looked pointedly at Tom and spoke again “You should go on without us. It’s a great idea, there’s no need to miss this opportunity.”

Confusion had cleared up from Elsa’s face, understanding surfacing in its place, and she echoed Chris’ statement “Yes, I agree. You guys should just go ahead, and we can meet again some other time when our calendars align.”

You were somewhat bemused by their insistence, but you didn’t mind either. So you left it to Tom to make a decision and looked at him expectantly.

Tom was, in turn, looking at Chris with narrowed eyes. They seemed to be having some sort of animated discussion just through their gazes, but you had no idea what was passing between them. Finally, Tom noticed all eyes were on him and he looked away from Chris, to Elsa, and finally to you.

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” he spoke.

“But she would _love_ to!” Chris jumped in, accentuating the word ‘love’ heavily, “Don’t be rude!” he insisted. They looked at each other again, Tom seemed suspicious, but you didn’t know what of exactly.

Ultimately, Tom looked to you again and said, beaming shyly, “Alright, then. I’d like that very much.”

“Great!” you exclaimed with a huge grin “Then I’ll let my manager know to put us in contact if that’s alright with you.”

“Absolutely,” he replied, smiling more surely now “I’ll do the same.”

You wanted to prolong the conversation but at that moment Nina approached the four of you and spoke, “Sorry to interrupt. It’s a pleasure to see you all, but I’m afraid the screening is about to start and I’ve come to collect my lovely client.” She then put one hand on your shoulder and told you “Linda and Nadia are waiting for us inside.”

You nodded. She went ahead of you with a small wave to the others, so you said your goodbyes, “It’s been so lovely to meet you all! I really hope we can meet again soon.”

“l guess we’ll see you later at the afterparty,” Tom replied.

“Yes, for sure.” Chris agreed.

“It’s been a pleasure, sweetie,” Elsa said, before kissing you on both cheeks.

Chris and Tom did the same. You started walking towards Nina who was waiting for you a few steps ahead. You turned back for a small wave, but only Tom was looking back at you, Chris and Elsa already engaged in conversation. He smiled sweetly at you again and reciprocated the wave. You blushed, a warm sensation wedging itself deep in your chest, and turned around to finally walk towards the entrance to the theatre.

When you reached Nina, she looked at you with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, “Trying to fulfil our fantasies, are we?”

You rolled your eyes at her and laughed. “Ugh, shut up.” you retorted without any bite.

She laughed and asked, “So? What did you guys talk about?”

“Nothing much, really,” you answered, “I just apologised again and invited them out to dinner. Oh, and don’t think I didn’t notice you completely ignoring me back there!”

You kept walking ahead but stopped when you noticed Nina had halted, so you looked back to her.

“Hold on, back up a little.” she widened her eyes “You what?”

You suddenly felt very self-conscious and nervously started wringing your hands, lowering your eyes. “I just thought it would be a good idea to make sure they know I really meant my apology.”

Nina noticed your discomfort and hurried to reach you, placing a gentle hand on your back, “Oh no, sweetie, I think it was a great idea!” she reassured you, “I was just surprised is all. What did they say?”

Your stance eased a bit and you both started walking again, finally reaching the entrance and leaving the chilly air behind.

“Unfortunately, Chris and Elsa won’t be in London long enough,” you replied, Nina’s face fell, then you casually finished, “But Tom said yes.”

“Wait, what?!” Nina almost screamed in excitement. You shushed her, nervously looking around to see if anyone had heard, but luckily nobody was paying the two of you any attention. You kept walking and finally entered the screening room, resuming the conversation.

“Nina, oh my God! What?” you asked her.

“How are you so calm about this?” she insisted “Just last week you were freaking out about even the idea of being in the same place as Tom Hiddleston and Chris Hemsworth, and now you basically have a date planned-”

“No way!” you interrupted her “This is not a date. What are you even talking about?”

“Sweetie,” she had the tone of someone explaining a really simple concept to a toddler, “you’ve literally agreed to go out to dinner with a man you find attractive. That is the very definition of a date.”

You scoffed “No, it’s not.” She wanted to protest but you pressed on determinedly “No, really, it isn’t. This is the complete opposite of that. This is me apologising for sexualising him. It couldn’t be farther from the concept of a date.”

“Sure, sweetie, you keep thinking that.”

You wanted to respond, but you could see Nadia, Linda, and Paul - Linda’s boyfriend - waiting for you at the foot of the small staircase leading up to your seats, so you decided to drop it for the moment.

However, Nina was of a completely different idea.

“Ah! There you guys are!” Nadia greeted you. 

“Hey, sorry guys, I got held back for a little bit.” you apologised, then added, “Hi Paul, it’s good to see you again.”

He nodded in greeting, but before anybody else had a chance to speak Nina reopened: “Oh yeah, she got held back talking to Tom Hiddleston and Chris Hemsworth.”

Nadia and Linda’s heads immediately whipped towards you, you felt sympathetic pain in your neck for how fast they’d moved. When nobody said anything for a few seconds, you realised they were waiting for you to explain. So you tried, “I- I mean- They just…” you hesitated, “What?!” you finally gave up.

“What?!” Linda mimicked you, “What did they say? What did you talk about? Was it as terrible as you were expecting it to be?”

Nadia just nodded in agreement, while Paul seemed really confused by what was going on. Poor guy was missing half the conversation. You were just about to stutter a reply when Nina took over again.

“She’s going on a date with Tom Hiddleston is what they talked about!” she seemed incredibly self-satisfied.

“That is just not true!” you protested. You could see that all Nadia wanted to do was bombard you with questions, and even Linda, for all her usual aloofness, seemed to be dying of curiosity. “We are _not_ going on a date. Tom just came over to say thanks for the card, I apologised again and then Chris and his wife Elsa were also there so I invited them out for dinner to make sure they knew I was sincere.”

Nadia turned to Nina and told her, matter-of-fact “She’s right, that’s not a date.”

“Believe me, it is.” Nina insisted, “She’s completely forgetting to mention the part where Chris and Elsa said no, so she’s going to dinner with Tom Hiddleston...” she paused for effect “...on a _date_.”

“So it is a date, then!” this time Linda was the one to speak, “You’re going out for dinner with a man you find attractive. That is the very definition of a date.”

“I…” you were at loss for words. You started doubting yourself: was that really how you had come off? Was that the reason Tom had hesitated so much? All of a sudden, you weren’t feeling so confident anymore. What if he’d just felt obligated to say yes? That wasn’t what you wanted at all.

While you internally examined the situation, Nina explained the circumstances to Paul with the help of Nadia and Linda who seemed to be excitedly speculating about what was going to happen. Finally, they noticed your silence and the dejected expression that had taken over your features. Nadia asked you “Hey, are you alright?”

You forced yourself to smile, trying not to bring down the morale, it was still an event after all. “Yeah, I’m okay.” you answered, “I just hope he didn’t feel like he had to say yes, that was not my intention.”

“I’m sure that’s not the case.” Linda tried to reassure you, then looked to Nina for confirmation, “Isn’t that right?”

“Definitely.” Nina declared, “I saw you guys talking, he didn’t come off as someone saying yes to something they don’t want to do at all.” She put a reassuring hand on your arm, “Trust me on this.”

You weren’t entirely sure, but couldn’t say anything else, because the lights finally dimmed and a voice announced from the overhead speakers “We kindly request the audience to find their seats for the beginning of the show.”

“We’ll see you later,” Linda said, and she and Paul started walking towards a row of seats slightly apart from the ones destined to Nina, Nadia, and you. You would usually sit all together, but seen as Linda had brought her boyfriend and the first few rows were booked for cast and crew strictly, you had to be separated this time.

You looked at them go and quickly scanned the room to try and locate your sister and her boyfriend and check if they had managed to find their spot. You’d scored a couple of tickets for them since your sister’s boyfriend was a huge superhero movies fan. Unfortunately, you couldn’t find them in the crowd, but you felt reassured knowing that your sister would also be at the afterparty. You hastily followed Nina and Nadia who’d gone ahead to the assigned seats. You managed to settle down just as the lights were switched off and a presenter started announcing some of the main actors coming onto the illuminated stage in front of the big screen so they could say a few words before the start of the movie. Neither Tom nor Chris were there. You tried to find them in the seated crowd, but it was too dark to be sure.

You made yourself comfortable and concentrated all your attention on the spectacle in front of you, attempting to put your worries aside.

-

The movie was a satisfying couple of hours of entertainment. You were sure you’d be hearing all about its faults and virtues from your sister’s boyfriend at the afterparty. You could usually keep up with the geeky conversation by the sparse knowledge on comic book culture you had acquired through pure exposure, but if he decided to get into details you might have to resort to the nodding-and-smiling listening technique.

You distractedly listened to Nina and Nadia discuss what you’d just seen while walking the row of seats to join Linda and Paul again and go with them to another side of the building where the afterparty would be taking place.

You managed to locate them among the sea of people making their way towards the exit. You pointed them out to Nina and Nadia and made your way to them. You still had no idea where your sister was, but she knew where to go so you weren’t too worried about her.

As soon as you reached the couple, Linda asked, “What did you guys think?”

“I think I liked it,” you replied.

Nadia agreed and then asked Linda the same, “Did you?”

Linda immediately launched into a detailed analysis of the movie. It wasn’t all that surprising, you hadn’t forgotten how dedicated she was to any type of knowledge, it was only normal she would know a lot about comics too.

You and Nina only half-listened, walking ahead of the others and heading for the afterparty. Nadia, on the other hand, seemed enthralled, while Paul looked like he’d already heard the whole of it in the two minutes it took you to find them.

It took you a while to get back to the entrance lobby and then to the hall where the party was taking place, as a good number of the people in the audience were also directed there. When you entered the room, you finally spotted your sister and her boyfriend standing a little ways from the open bar located along the wall opposite your group.

You briefly told Nina you were going to them and started walking, she informed the others - Nadia and Linda still animatedly discussing the movie -  and then followed after you.

“Sister!” you greeted her as soon as you reached her, “Finally! Hi, Ben.” you added.

Ben kissed you briefly on both cheeks, greeting Nina next, and then you and your sister hugged.

“Wow! You look amazing, babe!” she told you, putting you at arm's length so she could take a better look at your outfit. “And you too, Nina,” she finished, smiling and releasing you to greet her.

When pleasantries had been exchanged you looked to your sister first and then to Ben and asked, “Did you enjoy the movie?”

Predictably, he was the one to answer, your sister rolling her eyes in a here-we-go-again manner, “Oh yeah, it was amazing but they completely changed the way Cap-”

“I am not listening to this again.” your sister stopped him, “I’m going to get something to drink, you guys want anything?”

“Gin and tonic for me, please,” Nina replied.

“I’ll have a glass of red wine. Thank you, babe,” Ben added.

“Alright. What about you, hon?” she asked you.

“I’ll help you carry them,” you answered, so you both made your way towards the line to the bar.

“How has the night been so far?” your sister asked you, “Met anyone interesting, yet?”

“I met you, didn’t I?” you joked, she gave you an amused look, then you continued, “Yeah, I got stopped by Chris Hemsworth and Tom Hiddleston earlier. Elsa, Chris’ wife, is gorgeous.”

“Oh, wow! How did that one go?” she paused, “What with the Twitter debacle and all...”

“Yeah, it definitely didn’t start out great,” you explained, “But they both seemed to appreciate the wine I sent, and Elsa was a total sweetheart.”

She hummed in agreement. You concluded, “Well, Tom doesn’t lack charm, either,” and smiled sheepishly.

She laughed, an incredulous but thrilled expression directed at you. “Listen to this now!” she elbowed you a little too hard and you moved away, accidentally bumping into someone’s back.

You turned around, ready to apologise, and the person you bumped into did the same. It was Tom. Again.

You wondered just for a moment if there could ever be an encounter with him where you wouldn’t have to apologise. Suddenly, an alarming thought crossed your mind: had he heard you?

“I’m really sorry!” you both spoke at the same time. He smiled and you tried again, “It was my fault, I apologise.”

He seemed just as surprised as you to meet again, so you supposed he hadn’t heard the conversation you were having with your sister. Inwardly, you thanked whatever deity had decided to help.

“Don’t worry about it” he answered, then eyed your sister behind you.

You looked at her, then back to Tom, and realised you were supposed to make the introductions this time. “Oh, sorry! This is my sister Amelia. Amelia this is Tom.”

“Yes, Hiddleston,” she added, you winced internally. “Nice to meet you.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he responded. They shook hands, and then he asked you both “Did you enjoy the movie?”

Amelia wasted no time to answer, “Very! Your performance was flawless.”

Your sister was the most skilful flatterer you knew. You almost failed to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at her antics. Not that you didn’t think Tom hadn’t been absolutely wonderful as Loki, but you were certain that she was purposefully laying it on pretty thick.

Tom seemed surprised but very pleased. “Why, thank you very much.”

“I agree, the movie was very enjoyable,” you interjected.

You weren’t sure what else to say, but you didn’t have to think about it too hard because Amelia spoke again, “If you don’t mind, I’m gonna go ahead and grab the drinks for the others. You two take your time.” She winked at you covertly - you prayed Tom hadn’t seen it - and concluded before walking away, “It was a pleasure to meet you, Tom. Enjoy the rest of the night.”

“Sorry about that,” you told him once you were alone, “My sister is very generous with compliments.” You immediately realised how that sounded and hastily tried to correct yourself, “Not that your acting wasn’t good! I just meant- I didn’t mean-!”

He chuckled at your panicked expression. “It’s quite alright, I think I get what you mean,” he tried to reassure you.

“I am so sorry,” you repeated once again, with a sigh, “I seem to be putting my foot in my mouth a lot tonight.”

“I don't mind. I find it very charming.” Was he flirting? You didn’t have time to ponder, because he continued, “I really liked your song, by the way. I think it was the perfect choice for the movie, and you have an amazing voice.”

You blushed but grinned. “Thank you, that is very kind.”

“I truly think that,” he smiled back.

“Well, nonetheless, it’s still very sweet of you,” you repeated, “I’m really glad I could be part of such a huge franchise in my way.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “Marvel has really been doing something unprecedented. It’s such an enormous opportunity to have been part of it for so many years.”

“Very deservedly,” you added. There was a beat, you weren’t sure what else to say, and he seemed hesitant, too. You finally decided to gather some courage and address the issue that had been bothering you earlier.

“I wanted to say-” “Listen, I wanted to make sure-” you started at the same time once again.

You giggled and he chuckled. Then he extended a hand in a go-ahead motion and said, “Please, you first.”

“I wanted to say” you reprised, “That I don’t want you to feel obligated to accept my invitation.” He seemed puzzled, so you continued, “You looked very hesitant before, and I don’t want you to think you have to indulge me. It would be quite pointless of an apology if it ended up bothering you.”

“Oh, no, no, not at all!” he denied vehemently, “That wasn’t the reason I hesitated to say yes.” He saw your doubtful expression, so he continued “I was actually going to say that I wanted to make sure you didn’t feel the need to keep apologising for what happened. I really did appreciate the gift and the card, but I don’t want you to think you have to do this because you owe me. I needed to make that clear.”

You opened your mouth to respond but weren’t sure what to say, so you declared as much “I have no idea how to respond to that.”

He smiled, lowering his eyes for just a second, then spoke again, “Regardless, I would like to accept your invitation again if you’re still up for it.”

A huge grin took over your face and you excitedly replied “Absolutely!”

“However,” he stopped you, “Only on the mutual understanding that this is in no way an apology.”

You nodded solemnly and said, “I promise I’ll only apologise for the future times I’ll make a fool of myself from now on.” Then you looked straight at him and, unable to keep a straight face, you both laughed.

“I’ll be waiting to hear from you, then,” he said.

“Yeah, definitely,” you agreed, “I’ll keep in contact. I don’t mean to cut this short,” you concluded, “But I reckon I should get back to my sister and the others.”

“Yes, of course,” he replied, “I’m glad we could talk again. I hope you have a pleasant rest of the night.”

You smiled timidly and reciprocated, “You too. I hope to see you again soon.”

With that, you walked away, going back to Amelia and the others who had rejoined with Linda, Nadia, and Paul. You decided to keep the conversation you just had to yourself, not that you didn’t trust your friends, but you didn’t really want to make a big deal out of it for the moment.

As expected, they had seen you talk to Tom and requested the details, but you brushed their questions aside with a vague answer and they didn’t press further.

The rest of the night progressed smoothly. You saw both Tom and Chris several times, but you didn’t approach either again, as they were also busy with people you didn’t know. At times Nina introduced you to someone from your label that you hadn’t met yet, but you spent most of the party in the company of your friends.

When you got home it was almost two in the morning, and sleep took you before you could start worrying about the dinner you had yet to schedule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for getting this far! The length of this fanfiction seems to have gotten away from me, and all of a sudden it turned into the slow-burn work I hadn't planned it to be. Not that I had a lot of it planned to begin with.
> 
> Your comments and feedback make my life, and as usual, you can find me on Tumblr @writerunsolved, which is a blog completely dedicated to this fanfiction! 
> 
> Thank you once again, see you soon!


	4. One Cheesy RomCom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes back to the usual, and technology helps you with a new friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had hoped to release this chapter a lot earlier, but I won't lie, the new Tumblr strikeout put me out of sorts, and I had a rough couple of days. Thank you all for your great patience, and I hope you enjoy this one!

**** After the premiere, life got back to the usual. Your workload somehow increased, even. 

Seen as the event had been right in the middle of the week, the next day you were allowed a late morning, but had to be right back at work in the afternoon so you decided to grab a quick lunch from Caffé Piccolo, and make your way to the label offices a little earlier than when you were supposed to be there.

While you were at it, you also bought Nina a couple of her favourite doughnuts from the coffee shop, sure that she would appreciate them as a thank you for letting you sleep in even though she’d still had to go into work early in the morning.

You were pretty sure the first commitment of the day was a radio interview for BBC1. You usually got a car with Nina from the label building to the destination the interview would take place, but this time you were lucky enough to have been invited to one of the programmes that filmed in the same skyscraper where the label was located. The building also housed some recording studios for voice acting and music recording. It was there that you had recorded your entire first album as a published singer, and the place held huge sentimental value for you for this reason, despite looking like most unimpressive office buildings would.

As soon as you got there, you caught Nina in the lobby of the ground floor dictating what was sure to be a countless number of instructions to a spooked intern you’d never met before who was furiously taking notes.

You made your way to the two, carrying the paper bag full of steaming doughnuts in your hand.

“...and that needs to be done by 5:25 PM today. Got it?” was all you gathered from the tail end of the one-sided conversation Nina was having.

The intern looked at you then back at her and nodded fervently. “You can go now, Liam.” was all Nina said to dismiss him. At that point, she turned towards you, but before you had any chance to greet her, she eyed the paper bag and asked “Are those from Caffé Piccolo? Are they blueberry and cream cheese?” snatching them out of your hand.

Nina was already biting into one of the doughnuts when you spoke, in a sarcastic monotone “Don't mention it, Nina, you’re so welcome. I’m so glad you like them.” 

She moaned around the huge bite in her mouth and when she finally swallowed it down she asked rhetorically, “How do they make them so good?!” then she bunched the top of the paper bag closed with another doughnut in it and announced, “I have news.”

“Oh?” you inquired.

“ _ Someone’s _ manager asked for your contact info,” she explained, “Thanks for the heads-up, by the way.”

“Oh my god! I completely forgot!” You hadn’t told her about your agreement with Tom the night before, so you apologised, “I’m so sorry, Nina. It totally slipped my mind. What did you tell them?”

“Well,” she began, “I gave it to her. I guessed that was the plan, considering the circumstances.”

“You are the goddess of order and knowledge!” You grabbed her before she could protest and squeezed her in a tight hug.

“Yes, yes, I know.” You were certain she was rolling her eyes. She patted your back weakly with her free hand and continued, “Now please, let me go. We have work to do.”

When you released her, Nina pulled out a business card from one of her back pockets and handed it to you with a “Here.” You stowed it away in your bag and resolved to enter the contact information in your phone as soon as you had a couple of minutes. Finally, Nina started walking towards the elevator, so you followed her up to the floor where your interview was going to take place.

It was a couple of hours before you could leave the recording booth of the radio. Between the waiting and the actual interview, the whole thing had run a bit later than expected, which luckily didn’t turn into a problem. As a matter of fact, your next appointment was for dinner with Nina and Nadia, and an agent from a fashion magazine. 

You had been asked to give your input for an upcoming campaign you would be taking part in and be photographed for, and the dinner was the meeting to finalise the deal. Because Nadia was your personal stylist, she was also to be involved to make sure you were comfortable with the aesthetic of the photoshoot. These kinds of jobs didn’t usually require you to be so engaged in the decisional process, but you didn’t mind. You were actually quite enthusiastic about getting to work on the creative part of the project, rather than just standing in for the pictures.

Nevertheless, the dinner was the reason why a few hours went by before you could check your phone and finally type in Tom’s info.

At the end of the night, Nina dropped you off at your apartment building. While you waited for the elevator to get to your floor, you pulled out your phone from your bag, but before you could do anything else, you noticed you had a new message from an unknown number. It read: “ _ Hi. This is Tom, I thought I should let you know that my manager gave me your contact info. Hope you’re doing well, have a nice evening :) _ ”

You couldn’t keep the smile off your face as you shot back “ _ Hi! My manager also gave me your number earlier today, sorry for not letting you know before... It’s been a long day, but a good one. Hope your day was also good (: _ ”

You finally reached your floor, keeping your phone in your hand while opening the door, and soon enough it vibrated with another text.

“ _ I can’t say I worked as hard as you, I had a free day so I caught up with family. Unfortunately, the rest of the week won’t be as merciful… what about yours? _ ”

“ _ It’ll be just the usual, I guess, _ ” you typed fast, “ _ Some promotional work at the label and a couple of interviews here and there. What are your plans? _ ”

You took advantage of the wait for his answer to get undressed and ready for bed. Unlike that morning, you had to work early the next day and it was already past ten. Nevertheless, your mind kept drifting to the conversation you were having. It had been surprisingly easy to enter the conversation, you did it with almost no thought. It felt liberating to communicate this way - even though you didn’t know each other very well and you weren’t really expecting a conversation to start, it definitely did wonders for your shyness. And the exchange came strangely natural.

It reminded you of catching up with a friend you hadn’t seen in a while, even though the warmth in your chest that didn’t seem to want to go away was unquestionably a new feeling.

You pulled on a soft t-shirt you used as pyjamas, and finally settled in bed with your earphones in and some soft music to help the day flow out of you. You checked your phone and Tom had answered again.

“ _ I’ve been recruited for voice acting this time, _ ” his text read, “ _ It’s a fairly big project, I’ll be on the job for the next couple of weeks. _ ”

“ _ That sounds exciting! :D _ ” you sent back, “ _ Should I wait until you’re free again to schedule our promised dinner? _ ”

“ _ I hope we can arrange something before then, but I’ll let you know in a few days. :) _ ”

“ _ Great! _ ” You should have probably toned it down with the exclamation marks, but you couldn't stop yourself, “ _ Is it okay for me to ask about your voice acting project, or is that top secret? _ ” You didn’t feel like letting the conversation end just yet. 

Luckily, it turned out that he could indeed talk about it, and he told you as much along with some more details. You asked him more question, and he did the same in turn. Before the talk could end properly, you drifted to sleep, the both of you still deep in conversation until almost an hour later. You didn’t say goodnight, but when you woke up the next day - earphones still in but music long faded away - you found you had a couple more messages.

One of them was a continuation of your chat, while the other had been sent around midnight and read, “ _ I’m guessing you fell asleep, so goodnight… and good morning. :) _ ”

-

The next few days proceded in much the same way. Sometimes you were the one to text first, and other times he was: you would greet each other with a “ _ Good morning _ ” right before work, and the conversation would continue from there.

That wasn’t to say you could text continually, you were both quite busy - you were often at the label offices, or you were out for interviews and small musical matinées - so the conversations weren’t always linear, but they happened almost every day.

Some days you would text him and he could only answer after several hours, and the opposite could also happen, but all the days you heard from each other ended with a goodnight text.

At some point, talking so often became natural enough that you stopped worrying about bothering him, you just saw something funny or that made you think about him, and a text followed shortly after. Of course, some days that little voice in your head going “Don’t text him, he’s just being nice, you’re actually bothering him a lot!” would come back with a fiery passion, but the way he would end a sudden text with an “ _ I’m glad you texted. _ ” made all your doubts dissolve on the spot.

It was rare that either of you would delve into intimate matters - you’d only met around a week before after all, and the understanding that the texts should remain light seemed mutual - but the way you spoke to each other felt like a prelude to something greater, always on the brink of that one word you were nervous to say or hear. You realised with an exhilarating mix of apprehension and excitement that in the short time you’d known each other, you had somehow started trusting him, and it hit you out of the blue like a bat to the stomach.

A little over a week after you’d started texting, on just any day, you were in a meeting with some old man from another label who was requesting your presence at an event you couldn’t quite remember in detail. The reason for that was that, seemingly out of the blue, he had made a sexist joke at your expense, and you became blinded by rage. You felt humiliated and belittled, afraid of how to tell Nina you wanted out of the agreement. 

You should have trusted her to have your back, though, because the minute those foul words left his mouth, she stood up, said glacially, “Thank you for your time, but we’re not interested,” and made quick work of getting out of there. You were left scrambling to follow after her, completely stunned.

As soon as you were both out the door, she turned to you with an irritated expression and apologised, “That was completely unacceptable. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I’ll take responsibility for the deal being called off.”

You struggled with a response, mouth gaping but unsure of what to say. So you didn’t say anything at all. You just threw your arms around her and hugged her with all the strength you had, hoping that your gratitude could seep out from your skin and into hers. She hugged you back without a word and when you separated she touched your cheek gently, a rueful smile on her lips, and told you, “I have another appointment after this, but you should go ahead and enjoy the rest of the night. This was your last meeting for today.”

You nodded and thanked her before saying goodbye, and then you watched her back as she walked away. Nina’s support had definitely helped lessen your initial anger, but the whole situation was still nagging at you, leaving you with the acute prickle of disappointed and a sour taste in the back of your throat.

You decided to make a quick stop to the restroom to cool down before leaving. You looked into the mirror, and your mind instinctively thought of Tom, the urge to contact him mounting with every second.

You exited the room and started rummaging inside your bag for your phone with shaky hands, ready to text him. You had just grabbed the device and were unlocking the screen when you felt something lightly brush your shoulder, making you jump out of your skin.

You whirled around with a jolt, expecting some kind of fight, and sighed in relief when you realised it was Tom.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologised. He was looking at you with concern.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, “Don’t worry about it.” Then you forced out a smile and started over, “Hi! What are you doing here?”

“Hey,” he greeted too, “I didn’t realise you were signed under this label. This is where I’ve been recording for that project I told you about,” he explained.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, remembering the previous exchange. You tried to think of something more to say when he spoke again.

“Are you alright?” he asked you, a frown had taken over his features and was deepening by the second, “You seem a little shaken.”

You closed your eyes briefly, your unconvincing smile disappearing entirely, and tried, “I… Yeah...” You gave up halfway, sighed again and started over, this time sincerely, “Actually, not really.”

You finally opened your eyes, he looked right into them with intense worry, it made you weak in the knees for just a second. Registering that he was giving you time to gather your bearings for an explanation - if you were willing to give one - you continued, “I had a harsh meeting.” You paused again, diverting your eyes, unsure of whether to say it or not and in the end, you decided to do so, “Sexism doesn’t magically disappear when you start selling music, apparently,” you concluded, unable to keep the bitterness from your voice.

He reached a hand and circled his fingers around your wrist in a delicate grasp, not once turning his focused gaze away from your eyes. He took a deep breath and finally said, “I am mortified that you had to go through that. I will try and be of support to you if you were to decide to take legal action.”

You recoiled, completely blindsided by his words. You didn’t think that was necessary, and it definitely wasn’t something that you had even considered. Nevertheless, warmth spread through your chest, and you felt all the remaining anxiety drain from your bones. The thought of someone so readily believing you, not even knowing the whole situation, was as unfathomable as it was touching and the fact that that person was Tom, whom you’d unwittingly started trusting and hesitated to believe the sentiment was reciprocated in the way it seemed to be, made something deep within your soul shake in fear and trepidation.

You smiled, earnestly this time, your hand sliding backwards so that his fingers were touching yours. You could feel heat seeping in from where your fingertips were pressed against his. “I am genuinely moved, I don’t know how to thank you for what you just said,” you almost whispered.

His frown dissipated, a tiny smile taking its place, and his cheeks darkened in an almost invisible blush. You kept silently smiling and looking at each other for a few more seconds, then a door along the corridor closed with a loud bang and the moment was broken. Your hands separated.

Tom looked around embarrassedly, stroking the side of his neck in a nervous gesture and searching for what to say. He smiled nervously once again and finally asked you, “There’s a canteen on the 18th floor, would you like to get something to drink?” then he seemed to have forgotten something and hastily added, “I mean right now. With me.”

You couldn’t stop the small giggle that left your lips, seeing him flustered made your heart swell with affection. You lifted the strap of your bag higher on your shoulder and replied, “I’d like that very much.” 

You made your way to the elevator walking side by side, neither of you speaking. When you finally entered the lift, he selected the 18th floor as you stood next to each other, silence turning stiff. Suddenly, you twitched with realisation and said, “I know I should have asked this sooner, but how is the voice acting going, by the way?”

“It’s been a lot of fun, thanks for asking,” he replied with a genuine smile, “It’s been quite intense, considering the hours, but I’ve been enjoying it greatly.”

You smiled back. Right then, the elevator pinged to signal you had arrived, so you exited it and made your way to the canteen on the other side of the corridor. 

“I’m really glad to hear that,” you told him, “You have an amazing voice, it’s surprising that you’re not flooded with offers of voice acting work,” without thinking you also added, “But then again, it would be a shame to hide your lovely face behind a virtual character.”

He suddenly stopped walking, you did the same. “Oh?” he asked, his tone entertained.

You were confused for just a second before realising what you’d just said, “No! I meant- uh- I-I… Wha-”  you scrambled to explain yourself, “Because of your acting!” He pursed his lips, obviously trying to suppress his laughter, and you continued, “The things you do! With your face! While acting… are just, so good!” you finished with a grimace.

He finally started laughing.

“Ugh, I can’t believe I did this again.” you groaned.

“It’s completely fine,” he reassured you, still smirking, “It gets more endearing every time.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, a deep blush staining your cheeks.

You both started walking again, finally reaching the entrance to the canteen. He opened the door and gestured for you to enter ahead of him, then followed you inside.

The canteen was a spacious area on the left side of the building, it was furnished with small wooden tables and wrought-iron chairs, all along a wall of windows overlooking a district of mostly other office buildings. The tables surrounded the central space where an island bar was located and the cashier worked. Off to the side, there was a small door closing off the kitchen area where most of the food was prepared. The place was mostly used by the employees that worked in the building as a lunch area, but it wasn’t unusual to find other faces of the music or show businesses drinking a coffee and enjoying the view at all hours of the day.

You’d been there several times with Nina and the rest of your crew for a coffee break or to wait between meetings. You loved the view, watching the grey London skies and looking at the bright city lights when your work kept you busy until late was a great way to take in the vastity of other people’s lives. 

You looked around for an unoccupied table, there were quite a few but you set sight on one right next to the windows with two empty seats.

“Go on ahead,” Tom told you, following your gaze, “What would you like? I’ll go grab it for us.”

“Just a cappuccino, please.” You then motioned to pull out your wallet and added, “Here, let me-” but he stopped you with a hand on your forearm and said with a smile, “No need, I got it.”

You smiled back and thanked him, so he headed for the small bar and you made your way to the table you’d eyed. You set your bag on the floor against the legs of your chair and sat down, looking out towards the city while waiting for Tom to join you.

When Tom reached your table with a small metal tray - two coffee cups and a few sugar packets on it - and set it down, you jumped slightly. You’d been staring intently out onto the city, and your mind had begun to drift off on its own over what had happened earlier.

“Thank you very much,” you told him, sitting up, “I really appreciate it.”

“You’re very welcome,” he answered sitting down, then asked you, “Are you sure you’re alright? You seem a little spaced out.”

“I’m fine, really. Thank you for asking.” You ripped open one of the sugar packets and poured its contents into your drink and started stirring it absentmindedly. “It just kind of feels like a long day on my shoulders now, that’s all,” you smiled, your eyes on the cup.

He answered with a soft “Mhmm...” and said nothing else. When the silence stretched out, you finally looked up at him and he was staring right back at you, a scrutinizing but gentle expression on his face, but he didn’t say more.

You blushed under his gaze but covered it by taking a sip out of the large cup of steaming cappuccino. He did the same with his drink, then set it back down. Finally, he said, “I had a chance to listen to your album.”

You tried to read his expression with no luck. When he didn’t continue you prompted, “Oh?”

“I was very impressed,” he explained, “I already knew you have a wondrous voice - as I said before, your song for the soundtrack was quite astounding - but I was very surprised to find out you wrote most of the lyrics, too,” he paused for a second, then finished, “You have an amazing way with words.”

You were lost for words, didn’t really know how to respond to such high praise. You started, “I-” but had no idea what to say. In the end, you only said, “Thank you,” hoping that your gratitude would somehow translate in your tone. So much for the amazing way with words.

He chuckled, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he didn’t quite apologise.

“Oh no, that’s not it at all,” you insisted, “I’m just really stunned, I don’t get such huge compliments every day.”

He seemed like he wanted to say more, but just at that moment, his phone started ringing from his pocket. He pulled the phone out and looked at the screen with a frown. “I’m terribly sorry, I really need to take this,” he apologised.

“It’s alright, go on,” you reassured him and took another sip of your drink. 

“Hello?” he answered into the phone. He listened to the person on the other end and said, “I understand, see you later,” then he ended the call.

He put the phone back into his pocket and told you, “I’m afraid I can’t stay much longer. That was my manager,” he explained, “It seems something has come up, and my presence is required. I’m really very sorry.”

You put down your cup and told him, “I completely understand, you don’t need to apologise.”

“Before I go,” he started regretfully, “I wanted to talk about dinner.”

Hearing the negative tone in his voice and bracing for a rejection, you said, “I will understand if you’ve changed your mind,” but he stopped you.

“No, no, that’s not it,” he rushed to deny, “I just don’t think I’ll be able to make it before my voice acting commitment ends. I know I said I would, and I apologise-”

“It’s alright, honestly,” you stopped him, “There’s no need to apologise, I can wait.” You smiled genuinely.

He responded with a smile of his own. You both got up, his now empty cup still on the table, and you finally said your goodbyes.

“It was tremendous to bump into you, I’m glad we could sit down and chat even if only for a bit,” he looked into your eyes and said, “I look forward to meeting again.”

You were disarmed by his charm. “It was the same for me,” you replied with a shy smile, “I hope we can talk again soon.”

“Of course,” he said, pointing to the pocket where his phone was. He hugged you briefly and kissed your cheek. “Have a nice evening,” he said, and with that, he walked away. You sat back down to finish your drink and looked at his retreating back. He turned around just once, noticed you were also watching him and saluted you with a small wave and a smile before finally disappearing behind the doors of the canteen and into the corridor.

You finished your drink slowly, gaze back towards the city. You couldn’t keep a dreamy smile from blooming on your lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, thanks everyone for reading this far! Your comments and responses feed my very soul!
> 
> I have a small confession to make, and it's that I have been taking so long to update also because I found that writing Hiddleston is a real challenge. Which is the reason why I get incredibly excited when I receive feedback that he sounds very natural and I want to truly thank everyone who's taken the time to do so! You guys are amazing, and I am immensely grateful!!
> 
> You can still find this fic on Tumblr (who knows for how long at this point) at the dedicated account @writerunsolved.  
> I'll see you all soon, hopefully sooner next time!


	5. Food For Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally set a date for the promised dinner, you're happy but worried.  
> When anxiety starts striking hard, unexpected help from a friend can't solve every problem, but will definitely prove invaluable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I want to thank you all for your patience.  
> The holiday season has been quite busy and stressful, which is the reason why it took me longer than usual to update.  
> Either way, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**** A couple of days later, you found yourself at the canteen again. You were having a short lunch break with Linda before recording for a BuzzFeed interview, Nina would be meeting the both of you there later as she was already otherwise occupied for lunch. It was finally the Friday of a really busy week, and you were already looking forward to the unusual free weekend you would be getting starting the next day.

You’d contacted your sister the day before, letting her know that you would be free that Saturday for lunch. It was rare for you not to have any commitments on a weekend, but not for her. Her nine-to-five job left most of her Saturdays and Sundays open, so it was usually up to you to carve out a couple of hours from your schedule to meet her and catch up on what was going on in your personal lives.

“It feels like I haven’t had a free weekend in months,” started Linda around a bite of her salad, “I can’t wait for this day to be over so I can go home and sleep for fifteen hours straight.”

“Yeah, me too,” you agreed, “I’ve been dying to watch this new movie that came out, but I’ve been getting home late almost every day.”

“What movie?” she asked, all the while decisively stabbing into a cherry tomato that burst all over her lettuce leaves. Sometimes watching Linda eat was like a nature documentary: she was driven in every aspect of life, and her eating habits weren’t any different. She used sharp and calculated movements and every bite was almost the exact same size as the one before. 

“I can’t remember the exact title.” You were mesmerised watching her for a few seconds, so you didn’t immediately answer, “It’s along the lines of ‘Over My Body’ or something like that,” you shook your head trying to remember more accurately but failed, “It’s an Italian documentary, actually.”

She hummed in response and kept chewing on her lunch; you were about to dig back into your own plate when your phone, which had been sitting by your napkin, vibrated with a text alert.

Linda looked over in curiosity, you also glanced at the screen where Tom’s name and the first line of the text could be seen clearly. You looked to her to gauge her reaction and she was still staring at the phone, a sly smile on her lips. She finally looked up at you and said, “Sorry, didn’t mean to pry,” but you could tell she wasn’t chastised at all because her smile didn’t falter as she went back to her salad.

You put down your fork and picked up the device to open the text, which read, “ _ Hi! I’ll be finishing the recording for my voice acting project later today and I know this is sudden, but I’m free tomorrow night and I’m not sure when again after that so I was thinking we could meet? It’s totally fine if you’re busy, but I thought I might ask. _ ”

You quickly typed in “ _ Hey! I’m actually free tomorrow, so I’m totally game… I have an interview in a bit, but let’s talk again later and settle on time and place? _ ” and sent your answer.

“Oh wow, you must be crushing pretty bad,” Linda spoke again.

You put the phone screen-down on the table and picked up your fork, responding only with an inquisitive sound.

“Honey, you’re texting and smiling,” she explained, “That means trouble.”

You hadn’t even noticed yourself smiling, but now that she’d pointed it out it was undeniable. You tried to command your mouth to stop, morphing it into a weird half-grimace and quickly denied, “No, I’m not!” But she wasn’t looking at you anymore, and she didn’t need to to know that she was right.

She hummed knowingly, chewing carefully and slowly on another bite of salad. Then she lifted her eyes to you and resolutely said, “Yes, you were.” before looking back to her salad. Finally, she asked you, “How long have you been texting him?”

You used your fork to push the little that was left of your lunch around your plate with intent, unwilling to look into her eyes for fear of being too easily read, and attempted a casual answer, “A little more than a couple of weeks, I guess.”

Linda swallowed the last of her lunch and grabbed the water bottle in front of her, sitting back on her chair and idly playing with the cap without opening it. Unfazed by your vagueness and clearly aware of what you were trying to do, she replied, “So since you first met him at the premiere.”

Still desperately clinging to your coolness, you finally left your plate alone and looked up at her. Then you shrugged and nodded, “Yeah, I reckon that’s more or less it.”

She raised an incredulous eyebrow and finally unscrewed the cap off the bottle. Then, she took a sip, her fixed gaze into your eyes not faltering for even one second. When she was done, she closed the lid and put the bottle back on the table.

Her undivided attention and silence finally got to you and you gave up the façade. “Fine!” you huffed, throwing up your hands, “Yes, we’ve been texting since the day after the premiere, and I even met him in person once if you must know!” You rolled your eyes in fake exasperation and leaned back into your chair.

That elicited a small incredulous laugh from her and a “What? When?”

“Yeah, I met him by chance a couple of days ago after work,” you explained, “We bumped into each other and grabbed a coffee.”

She was gaping at you, excitement in her eyes. When you didn’t continue, she asked, “And then?”

“And then nothing,” you replied, “We only stayed for a bit, he got a call and had to go back to work.” You shrugged again and took a sip of the cappuccino you’d ordered with your lunch.

“Then,” she started, “what was that about just now?”

You hesitated. You weren’t sure you wanted to delve into details. You knew that ever since you’d met Tom at the premiere and you’d arranged to go to dinner together, everyone was expecting something romantic to develop, but you firmly believed that was not the type of interest Tom had for you and you weren’t sure of your own feelings either. Your past love life was anything but shiny or even reciprocated at times, and you didn’t want your hope to grow only to end up hurting all on your own over situations you’d been one-sidedly reading too much into. The feeling that you might end up surrounded by cats and living an eternal single life was neither new nor far-fetched to you.

You reached your fingertips over the edge of the table absentmindedly, mostly to have something to do with your hands while you decided on how much to disclose. Rather than look at Linda, you inspected your nails and avoided eye contact when you finally answered, “Just making good on that plan of having dinner.”

She hummed a small sound of agreement and at the same time speculation. She didn’t say more at first, so you looked at her, but she was looking down pensively. She seemed to be considering her words very carefully, and you could almost pinpoint the moment she decided to drop part of her answer because she lifted her shoulders just slightly and finally returned your gaze. “When’s that going to be?

You were momentarily puzzled by the absence of any comment on your answer, and the fleeting wonder of what exactly you were projecting at that moment to make her decide against what she wanted to say crossed your mind, but you set it aside and answered instead “Uhm... tomorrow night, actually.”

“Good!” She declared, then continued, matter-of-fact, “I’ll be over at six o’clock.”

You frowned. “In… the morning?” you asked her, confused.

“Of course not,” she explained, “I’m coming over before your date to do your makeup.”

“What?!” You laughed, thinking she was joking, “Nice one, Linda. Besides, it’s not a date.”

“I’m not joking.” She rebutted quickly, “I am coming over and doing your makeup because it  _ is _ a date.”

You spluttered and shook your head, completely at loss. You moved your mouth to speak several times but nothing came out as you weren’t sure what you wanted to say. Finally, you responded, “There is absolutely no need for that, come on.” You looked at her inquisitively, still waiting for the punchline. When it didn’t come you continued, standing your ground, “It’s just a friendly dinner,” you enunciated slowly as if explaining a very simple concept to a toddler, “and even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t need a professional makeup artist for a single night out.” You took a deep breath and firmly concluded, “You are not doing my makeup.”

“Ugh, fine!” She rolled her eyes and huffed out an irritated breath, “You never let me have fun!” she whined.

You chuckled, she spoke again, “I am still coming over, though.” she announced pointing her index finger at you.

You fell back in your chair with a sigh, this time it was your turn to roll your eyes. “Why?”

“Because,” she elongated the word, “You’ll definitely be freaking out, and I wanna veto your outfit.”

You crossed your arms in fake disdain, “I guess I just can’t win, can I.” You rolled your eyes again for effect and finally announced, “I give up, you can come.” She just smirked.

-

The next morning you were woken up by two things, one pleasant, the other a bit less so.

While lunch with your sister Amelia had eventually gone swimmingly, she’d gotten to your house a bit earlier than you’d been expecting her and she had found you still half-asleep and wearing pyjamas. You’d ended up finishing quite late the night before and had hoped that your lunch date could mean a few more hours of shut-eye, but that hadn’t been the case.

She had turned out to be a blessing, though, because she’d helped you do some errands around the house while you cooked for the two of you and the extra time together hadn’t been unwelcome either. Your schedules rarely managed to align, so having the time to catch up was a pleasant respite from running around from the label to the various interview locations and events. You were grateful for the success that had been granted to you, but sometimes family was the pause you needed to recalibrate your anxiety.

The second thing that had been expecting you when you awakened had been a text from Tom. He had sent it to confirm your date that same night, and he’d suggested you meet at a fairly new Thai restaurant that had been recommended to him by a friend. When he’d told you the address, you’d been surprised to discover that the place was just a few minutes from your house so you had agreed on meeting there around 7:30 PM.

Even though you’d ended up spending several hours together, and she’d seen you text Tom back, you’d managed to avoid the dinner date conversation with your sister and Tom hadn’t come up even once.

It had actually surprised you that she hadn’t mentioned him, you were pretty sure she was going to pester you about meeting him at the premiere - especially after your tweet - but she hadn’t at all. She’d been extremely engrossed complaining about her job and how her boss was expecting her to put in extra hours for no pay and you’d barely managed to get two words in. You hadn’t minded, though, your time together had been enjoyable and felt too brief, and not having to contribute much to the conversation wasn’t exactly a huge problem. It just meant more time to just listen and relax for you.

Amelia left around five in the afternoon after a call from Ben with the promise of keeping in contact more often - as she always promised - and a hug. You took advantage of the short hour that was left before Linda would be coming over to shower and choose an outfit for the night. You looked up the restaurant, called Mama Thai, and decided on casual clothing. You wanted to choose what to wear before Linda could make a hostile takeover of that too, and it didn’t take you very long to settle on a pair of charcoal grey pegged trousers and a soft black turtleneck. Finally, seen as the weather in London had gotten chilly all at once, you would definitely be topping the clothes with your trusted tan wool coat.

With that out of the way, you were still left with a half-hour window of time before Linda would be coming over. You decided to spend it just chilling on the sofa, fresh pyjamas on - it was still too early to get dressed - and some low music in the background.

The short break of time allowed you enough quiet to start thinking - maybe overthinking - about the night to come, and a small orb of anxiety started to form behind your sternum. You wondered about how it would go, you and Tom didn’t know each other all that well despite the numerous texts you had shared so far, and you were afraid that talking with each other face to face would prove too much of a challenge. What if no words came out of your mouth? You imagined an awkward dinner of two people who have nothing in common and that all that could pass between the two of you would be an incessant silence broken only by the grating noise of chewing.

All things considered, that could turn out to be the most positive outcome out of the worst ones. You could always end up fighting over a disagreement of views and start throwing plates at each other, getting thrown out of the restaurant and ultimately ending up on a gossip magazine.

Or you could get food poisoning and throw up all over his shoes before the end of the night, or… or… or…

Or maybe you simply needed to calm down and stop making up disastrous movie scenarios. You could have many insecurities, but your politeness was not something you often called into question and you were sure that if you either made a fool of yourself or he turned out to be the worst possible person - of which you were highly doubtful - the night would merely end with a polite goodbye and no promise of a future encounter.

And just as you’d managed to subdue the part of your mind that liked giving you unnecessary worries, your brain immediately conjured conspiracies of you being the only one who enjoyed the night and developing delusions of it being reciprocated. Right then, you really wished you’d learned to take things one step at a time at some point in your life.

Just as your imagination started making up Netflix romcom worthy plots, the intercom sounded. Thankful for the respite, you let out a sigh of relief and got up to let Linda in.

In the time it took her to get to your floor with the elevator, you turned down the music to a background tune and picked up a couple of throw pillows that had fallen from the couch to the floor. Then, you went to the kitchen and switched on the electric kettle filled with water, already knowing that Linda would enjoy a cup of tea. You had an entire cupboard just for tea, both bagged and loose, and most of the reason for that was Linda. You certainly enjoyed the beverage yourself, but ever since Linda had started coming to your house as a friend and not just a colleague, your collection had steadily grown into the impressive assortment it now was.

Soon enough, Linda ringed the doorbell. You went to open and she greeted you with a brief hug and an enthusiastic “Hi!”

You kissed her cheek and directed her to the small kitchen off the entrance, she placed her bag on the kitchenette island and divested herself of her coat, folding it across her arm.

“How are you doing, Lin?” you asked her, extending a hand so she could hand you the coat to hang in the closet next to the kitchen.

“I am so rested!” her voice followed you along the corridor, “I slept for almost ten hours non-stop.” You could hear the sound of a cupboard opening and of porcelain mugs softly hitting the countertop. Sure enough, when you got back you found her pouring the now heated water from the kettle to the mugs. She’d already chosen a tea for you, as she often did. She slid one of the mugs toward you and handed you a teaspoon. 

“Ugh, lucky!” you groaned in response, “Amelia got here so early and had me doing chores right away. That woman is unstoppable.” She hummed in response, gently blowing on her tea, and took a sip. She let out a contented moan.

You tried your tea, she’d chosen a mint mix and you couldn’t help but ask her, “Oh, nice. Why’d you choose this one?”

“Because mint is a relaxant,” she explained briefly, “and I already know you’ve been overthinking this date.”

You harrumphed in disdain and lied, “No, I haven’t!”

She gave you an incredulous look and turned around, setting the mug down behind her. “Honey, honestly,” she started, opening her hands broadly in a placating motion, “I know you well enough by now, and I also know that you’re lying.”

You didn’t answer, preferring to hide what you could of your face behind your cup of tea and burning your tongue as a result. Linda had turned around again and was scooping up the tea bag out of her mug and placing it in a small dish you hadn’t noticed she’d gotten out. 

When she faced you again, mug back in hand, you asked her, “Did you meet Paul earlier today?”

“Yes,” she replied, “He brought me coffee and croissants this morning.” She had a dreamy look in her eyes.

You smiled and looked into your tea, letting it swirl around the mug slightly. “He’s too sweet,” you told her.

“Don’t worry,” she answered quickly, “After the date tonight, I’m sure it won’t take you long to also score a boyfriend who brings you breakfast in the morning.” She smirked and sent you a wink. She downed the last of her tea and set the mug down behind her again, then clapped her hands resolutely and asked in quick succession, “So, what time are you meeting? Where are you going? And what are you wearing?”

You also finished your tea and walked to the sink, lowering your mug into it. You turned to Linda and gestured for her mug, she handed it to you with a “Thanks,” and you left it next to yours, reaching for the small dish with the teabag next and started, “Well,” you turned towards Linda again and leaned back onto the edge of the sink, answering, “We’re meeting around half past seven, at a small Thai restaurant not too far from here, and the clothes I’ve chosen are laid on the bed in my room.”

“Aw,” she whined, “You’re no fun, I wanted to help you choose!”

“Yes, I know,” you laughed, “That’s why I already did that.”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in fake offence. Then, too curious to keep up the façade she said, “Alright, then, let’s see them.” And walked ahead of you towards your bedroom.

She eyed the clothes on the bedspread with careful consideration and picked up the sweater, flipping it back and forth and putting it down gingerly. “Are you wearing your tan coat over this?” she finally asked.

“Yep, but I’m open to disagreement,” you answered.

“No, no. This is nice,” she deliberated. “We absolutely need to get you into makeup now,” she announced, “It’s almost six thirty and I don’t wanna rush.”

You rolled your eyes and didn’t move. “I thought we’d agreed on no makeup, Lin.” You looked at your hands for a second, then to Linda, and hesitantly asked her “And anyway, are you sure about this?” She seemed confused so you continued, “It’s just a casual meeting, I don’t want you to go overboard, and maybe it would be better to go with no makeup at all, you know.” You paused, “I mean, I don’t want him to think I have ulterior motives and I don’t want to be overdressed, or I guess over-prepared in this case because what if-”

“I’ll go easy,” she stopped you before you could start rambling, “Just a soft, no makeup, makeup look. I promise.”

You nodded, still not entirely convinced but resigned to your fate, and inquired, “Where do you want me?”

“Living room,” she answered with no hesitation, “it’s got the best light. I just need to grab my bag from the kitchen, I brought all I need.”

You both moved to the living room; while she continued to the kitchen, you pulled out a small foldable chair you kept in the coat closet for when Nadia and Linda came over to prepare you for events. You opened it in front of the low coffee table where you knew the light would reach you best, but not directly, and sat down. It was almost routine, Linda had done that same action so many times before that you’d memorised the position too.

She reached you and propped her open bag on the coffee table. She then picked out a pair of small bottles and a foldable pouch that you knew contained her makeup brushes. Finally, she turned towards you, observing you for just a second, and got started.

You relaxed back into the chair, enjoying the delicate touch of the brushes on your skin and Linda’s soft humming of a foreign rhythm.

Relaxed as you were, you didn’t notice the time passing at all, so when Linda declared, “Perfect!” you jumped slightly, getting dragged out of your daze. You opened your eyes, she was offering you a compact mirror. You thanked her and took it, opening it up to observe the result of her work.

She had kept the promise of a soft makeup and to an inexpert eye it just seemed like you had flawless skin and enviably full eyebrows, but you could spot every difference from your bare face and you were truly impressed. It was a far cry from the looks you usually displayed at events, but no less impressive.

You handed the mirror back to Linda and thanked her again, “This is wonderful, Linda. Thank you so much for coming over.”

“Don’t mention it,” she brushed it off with a small wave of her hand, but you continued.

“I really mean it,” you insisted, “You were right, I  _ was  _ freaking out, and having you here really helped. So thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” she replied, “Now, you need to get ready and go out there and have an amazing night, okay?”

You nodded and stood up, walking back to your bedroom with Linda in tow. Undressing in front of her had stopped bothering you a long time ago, seen as how often it happened, so you didn’t ask her to leave and quickly divested yourself. When you went to take out a brassière from your bedside table, you noticed it was almost 7:10 and the anxiety that had seemed to dwindle with Linda’s arrival came rushing back.

You took a deep breath and put the feeling aside, determined to get to the restaurant on time. Walking there would only take around ten minutes, so you still had enough time, but you got dressed quickly and picked out a bag, filling it with your wallet, keys, and phone. You would take your coat on the way out, as it was still in the coat closet with Linda’s.

You turned to her, ready to leave. She gave you a once-over and said, “You look wonderful! But not like you’re trying, put together but casual.” And then she nodded solemnly.

You chuckled, “Thanks, Linda, that’s what I was going for,” you grabbed your purse, then asked her, “Ready to go?”

“Yep,” she answered, and followed you to the entrance, picking up her bag from the coffee table in the living room while you got out both your coats, handing her hers and shouldering yours.

As soon as you exited the apartment, you fished your keys out of your bag and closed the door. You took the elevator down together and finally said your goodbyes.

Linda hugged you briefly and softly told you, “Good luck. Please, don’t freak out too much.”

“I’ll try,” you replied. You separated and she smiled at you. You smiled back, then you both turned away from each other and walked off in different directions, just as a cold wind started blowing, slightly messing up your hair. You hugged your coat closed tighter around you and picked up your pace, trying to keep unfortunate thoughts out of your mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't like the word "reckon", it sounds so formal but it's actually very casual and it's misleading.  
> I want to thank you all again for still being here and reading on, and to everyone who keeps commenting and leaving kudos: you are the light of my writing! Thank you so much!!!  
> I'll see you next time!


	6. Dine With Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The awaited dinner finally comes to pass, bringing with it good food and good company.

It took you exactly seven minutes to get to the restaurant. You could tell because you’d been checking your phone obsessively the whole way, afraid of being late. You made the last turn and looked around for the Mama Thai sign, a fluttery rumble lodging itself in your lower abdomen.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath with the aim of calming down the undercurrent of anxiety that had completely taken over your mood. Its persistence was a loud cacophony blocking out any other emotion from seeping into your brain. It didn’t work as well as you’d hoped and when you reopened your eyes, your attention zeroed-in on a silhouette on the other side of the street, immediately recognising it as Tom.

He was standing a little ways from the entrance to the restaurant with a hand in his pocket and the other around his phone, wearing a dark wool coat, collar raised up to his ears, and underneath a pair of soft jeans that looked well-loved. You stalled for a second, making time to take in his slack expression and his flowy reddish curls, which fell gently on his forehead and framed his features. You smiled.

You quickly shook yourself out of your reverie, trying to regain control of your face, and looked at both sides of the road before crossing to where he was, looking down on the phone in his hand. You took the last few steps that separated you and gently tapped him on the shoulder. He immediately turned towards you and pocketed the device. As soon as he realized it was you, a bright smile bloomed on his lips that you instinctually reciprocated.

“Hi!” he greeted you, going for a hug and kissing you on both cheeks. You rested your left hand on his side, the right gripping the strap of your bag, unsure of what to do and barely having time to realise what was going on. When you finally did, you had already separated and you could feel warmth spread all over your face, a deep blush sure to follow.

“Hey,” you greeted him back, smile turning shy, “I hope I'm not late. How are you doing?”

“You’re not, I was just early,” he reassured you, “I’m very good, thank you. I’m glad to see you!” He had yet to stop smiling at you, “How are you?”

“I’m also good,” you smiled again and nodded. Unsure of what to say, you pointed to the entrance with your thumb and asked, “Shall we go in?”

“Oh, yes,” he replied and gestured with his open hand, “Please, after you.”

You thanked him quietly and walked in, a small bell rang above the door announcing your arrival to the staff. Once inside, you moved to keep the door open for Tom, who thanked you and followed you in. You took a few steps to the side, getting closer to the high desk where the cash register was, the seat behind it empty, and you both looked around while waiting for someone to direct you to a table.

The restaurant was a small place with about a dozen tables, most of them seating just two people, but others pushed together for slightly bigger groups. The furniture was a rich dark brown, and the walls were lined with high mirrors to the ceiling alternated with beautifully detailed wallpaper depicting illustrations of landscapes and maps of Asia. It was almost impossible to grasp every single detail of the pictures, especially under the low golden lights that lit the place, which gave the space an intimate glow. The room didn’t feel crowded, but only a few empty tables remained to be filled, and you really hoped they hadn’t been booked in advance.

“There are quite a few people,” you observed, finally breaking the silence, “I guess that’s a good sign, right?”

“Yeah,” Tom nodded, looking at you, “I really hope so.” He laughed, bringing a hand to his neck and delicately pinching the skin with a nervous movement.

You smiled back, somewhat comforted by the thought that you weren’t the only one feeling insecure. You gathered some courage and decided you’d had enough of being embarrassed, “You know, I was actually surprised when you sent me the address,” you started, “I live just a few minutes away.”

He seemed surprised, “I had no idea.”

“Of course,” you laughed slightly and he did too, realizing that he’d said something very obvious. “It would have been worrying if you had known,” you joked.

“Definitely,” he agreed, “I swear I didn’t.” He lifted his hands, showing innocence.

Right then a waiter, a chubby Asian man with soft features, approached you and gently asked “Table for two?”

You were about to respond, but Tom stepped forward and preceded you, “Actually, I called earlier to make a reservation. Under Wilson?”

You frowned to yourself, confused but amused. The waiter stepped behind the desk and slid open a small journal where they supposedly kept a log of the reservations, and finally said, “Wilson for two, 7:45.” He closed the journal and grabbed two menus from a pile on his right, then he said “Please, follow me.” and started walking between the tables.

Tom gestured for you to go ahead and followed after you. The waiter stopped at a table toward the back and set the menus down with a cheery “Here you go.” and went ahead to a different table where another couple of diners had called for him.

You set your bag down next to the wall that surrounded the side of the table and placed your coat on the back of your chair, Tom doing the same, before sitting down.

He passed you one of the menus the waiter had left, and absentmindedly picked up the other, opening it but not reading it. “You were saying you live around here?” he asked.

“Yes, I do,” you nodded, “Just a few minutes away on foot. I have an apartment in a building on Waleorde Road.”

“I have a friend who lives in the same area,” he noted, “Near the Elephant & Castle tube station, if I remember correctly.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s actually where I take the metro to get to the label building,” you told him, “It’s the closest stop from where I live.”

“Have you lived there long?” he asked interestedly.

“Not really,” you replied, “Just around six months now.” You fiddled with the laminated pages of the menu, unsure of what to do with your hands. “I made the down payment for the apartment with my first paycheck,” you laughed, “Some people go for a shopping spree, others buy a new house.”

He laughed, too. He was about to say more when the waiter interrupted you again, “Are you ready to order?”

You looked at Tom, who had the same chastised expression as you. “We need a couple more minutes if that’s okay,” he told the waiter.

The waiter responded with a soft “Sure.” Then asked, “Can I get you something to drink in the meantime?” You asked for water, Tom went for a glass of white wine. The waiter nodded and left again.

You smiled, “I think we should probably look at the menus,” you said.

He agreed, so you both looked down at the enormous list of dishes available. You were slightly disoriented at how many choices there were, you had no idea where to even start. “Uhm...” you hesitated, “These are a lot of dishes,” you announced, and looked up at Tom.

He seemed just as lost. “Yeah...” he murmured, still looking at the pages with a deep frown.

An idea struck you, “What do you say we choose a couple of dishes each and share them?” you asked him.

He looked at you and smiled, “That’s a good idea,” he replied, “Let’s go for it.”

“Okay, so,” you started resolutely, “let’s find… I’d say… two dishes each -” you made a V with your index and middle finger “- that seem appealing and order them, okay?”

“Okay,” he nodded firmly, and you both went back to the page.

After two or three minutes, he closed the menu, and shortly after you did the same. “I think I'm done, you?” you asked him.

“Yes,” he replied, “I think I’ve made my choice.”

“Cool,” you said, “You first.”

“The rice cakes with aromatic herbs and spices look pretty interesting,” he started, “and the Sateh Kung sounds amazing.”

“I saw the Sateh Kung, too!” You exclaimed, “And I didn’t notice the rice cakes, but I’m totally up to trying them,” you continued, “I was also thinking we could get the Green Curry if that’s fine with you?”

“Absolutely,” he agreed.

The waiter noticed you putting down the menus and approached your table again, bringing the drinks you’d ordered with him and settling them down in front of you, “All done?” he asked.

“Yes,” you were the one to answer this time, “thank you for the patience.”

“No problem at all,” he said, “What can I get you?”

You glanced to Tom, then back to the waiter and decided to go first, “A Green Curry and a...” you looked at Tom again, for confirmation, “...Sateh Kung,” you finished.

He nodded and added, “And the rice cakes with aromatic herbs and spices, please.”

“Is that all?” the waiter asked, noting the order down on a small notepad.

“Yes, thank you,” Tom answered, “Could we get two plates, too, please? We’re sharing the dishes.”

The waiter nodded, finishing writing. “We serve rice with every order,” he informed you, “What kind would you like?”

“Oh, yellow fragrant rice for me, please,” you answered. “Brown rice, thank you,” said Tom.

The waiter nodded again and added the rice to the order. Then he pocketed the notepad and reached for the menus. You both thanked him, and he was gone.

“Now that I think about it,” you began, frowning lightly, “What’s up with Wilson?”

“Oh,” he laughed, his cheeks reddened imperceptibly, “I don’t usually give my surname for restaurants,” he explained.

“I’d guessed as much,” you noted, “But how come?”

“Well,” he seemed hesitant, so you stopped him before he could continue.

“You don’t have to say if you’d rather not,” you retracted, afraid you’d hit a sore spot.

“Oh, no, it’s completely fine,” he hastened to reassure you, “It’s just slightly embarrassing...” His smile turned into a grimace for just a second and he finally explained, “Right after the first Thor movie, I called to make a reservation at this one restaurant in Edinburgh,” he paused, “And of course I used Hiddleston,” you nodded, “When I arrived they had put up garlands, the type one would usually find at birthdays, and they spelt out ‘Welcome Mr Hiddleston’.” He covered half his face with his right hand, the other half displayed a deep red blush. “It was incredibly flattering,” he almost mumbled, “but also quite embarrassing.”

You couldn’t stop your grin and tried to cover it with a hand. He peered at you through his fingers, you could tell you had done a poor job of covering your mouth because he was smiling too, with an exaggerated look of betrayal in his eyes. That sent you over the edge, an unflattering snort coming out of your mouth, followed by a suppressed laugh. “I’m so sorry,” you apologised, but your laughter made it sound insincere, “I really am,” you tried again.

“It’s fine,” he brushed your apology aside with his hand, finally uncovering his face. He was still smiling when he said, “When my older sister found out, she called me Mr Hiddleston for an entire month, texts included.”

“Oh, no,” you had finally stopped laughing, “That is some dedication.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, closing his eyes briefly and readjusting his glasses on his nose with a smooth gesture.

“I guess sisters are just like that,” you chuckled, thinking of Amelia, “My sister spoke and texted in a very heavy French accent for two weeks last year, just because I said her imitation of the French accent was annoying.”

“She… texted you in a French accent?” he probed, bemused.

“Yes!” you exclaimed, exasperated at the memory, “She put accents all over the place and just wrote words as they would sound in French.” You sighed, “It took me half an hour to decipher a text every time she sent me one.”

Tom widened his eyes and laughed loudly, amused and impressed by the spite you sister was capable of. Then, between chuckles, he said, “She seems like a fun person, are you two very far apart in age?”

“Not really,” you replied, “Just about a few years.” You took a quick drink from your glass and continued, “We were never in the same classes in school, but sometimes we hung out together,” you explained, “Although, we also made very different close friends… It was halfway through spending all waking hours together, and avoiding each other at all cost.” Your smile turned fond.

“As siblings do,” Tom agreed, “It was more or less the same with my sisters.” He started playing with his glass, sliding it in circles and making the wine slosh around the chalice slowly. “Even though I’m the middle child, I was the only boy so I got away with a lot.” He had a far-away look in his eyes, distracted by memories, “My sisters were not happy at all, especially my older sister. She had to fight for some of her privileges but, after her, my younger sister and I had guaranteed freedom,” he finished.

“It sounds like you’re quite close,” you commented. The look in his eyes made you feel at the same time like you were intruding on a private moment and incredibly flattered to be granted such insight.

He looked up at you, whatever thought of his childhood had been caught in his head was already gone, leaving behind a sunny smile. “Yeah, I suppose we are...” he trailed off, then added, “Although my older sister, Sarah, is a journalist in India, so we don’t see each other very frequently now.”

“That’s amazing,” you were genuinely impressed, “It sounds like quite the adventure.”

“Definitely” Tom smiled. “Are you close with... Amelia, right?” he asked.

“We are now, yes,” you answered, ”We weren’t as much before, but it was mostly on my side.”

He adjusted his glasses again, frowning and tilting his head to the side in question.

“I used to feel like I was leagues behind her when I was younger,” you explained, “She was always the popular type and so incredibly confident in what she wanted her future to be like, and pursued it from the beginning. But I wasn’t.” You paused, you didn’t want to be a downer so you considered what to say next carefully, “It took me quite some time to come out of my shell when I was small, and to make up my mind later on and finally move to London. It really felt like I was wasting my time and disappointing the people around me  and it made me somehow turn sour against my sister who seemed to have everything figured out.” You smiled ruefully. “But they were just my own issues, she always did her best to be supportive,” you finished. “Sorry, I didn’t want to bring down the mood,” you chuckled.

“Oh no, it’s fine,” he reassured you, “I get what you mean. When I started acting I also felt like I was going nowhere for a long time,” he revealed, “I considered changing paths several times.” You nodded, understanding the feeling completely. Then he asked, “Amelia does seem like a very extroverted person. What does she do?”

You reached for your glass, still half-full of water, and tapped your nail against it delicately without thinking. “She works for a big company and has a very complicated job,” you answered, “She’s explained it to me so many times, but I’m not quite sure what exactly her role is, to be honest. I just know that she works like a mule,” you swallowed and sat up straighter, “I saw her just today and she was telling me how her boss doesn’t want to pay her for overtime but requires that she do it anyway.” You became quite animated, as you’d been when Amelia had told you the same thing earlier that morning, “Can you believe it?” you asked rhetorically.

“That’s awful,” Tom commented, “But it’s nice that you can meet regularly.”

“Well, to be fair,” you started, “It had been a while before today. She usually comes over and I make her lunch. She doesn’t have the patience for cooking, but I do, so she takes advantage to get a taste of home,” you laughed.

“You enjoy cooking?” he asked you.

“I do,” you nodded, “I find it relaxing, and sharing food is a good chance to just sit down and have a good chat, too.” At that, you gestured between the two of you, indicating that your current situation applied too. “Do you cook?” you asked in turn, then picked up your glass and took a drink.

“Yes, I do,” he replied, “I’m not an expert in any way, but I do have a couple of dishes I’m pretty confident in,” he winked playfully.

Just then, the waiter came back carrying a tray with the dishes you’d ordered. He put down the two empty plates in front of you and the rest on the table. You both thanked him and as soon as he’d left, you busied yourselves with dividing the food between your two plates. The personal conversation paused for a while, in favour of commenting on the food and agreeing that Tom’s friend had definitely found a gem of a restaurant. While you slowly worked through the quite big portions of food, he told you about said friend and how Tom had actually never had Thai food before. At some point, Chris came up and Tom recounted some of the anecdotes from filming with him and how they’d immediately clicked when they’d started working together.

In turn, you told him about the first time you’d met Nina, how she’s been the one to track you down after seeing your recordings online and how terrified and intimidated by her you were at the start. You told him a bit about Linda and Nadia, too, whom he hadn’t had the chance to meet yet, and the role the three had taken in your life beyond just being colleagues. How you could hardly imagine a life where they weren’t some of the most important people.

He shared similar experiences of meeting fellow actors on the various sets and theatres he’d found himself in and the easiness with which people became friends when you ended up sharing hours upon hours in such close contact. It became a delicate balance between talking about your past experiences and the people you’d both become because of them. It felt somehow like an approachable way to bare yourselves to each other.

You tried to keep a neutral but interested face whenever he named someone you were familiar with, but you could tell that he sometimes noticed your concealed awe at some of the names and when he did, he happily recounted the stories he had of meeting them.

“...he just looked me straight in the eyes and said in the most monotone voice you can imagine: ‘I like French fries, sue me.’ I believe I turned into stone right then and there.” By the time Tom had finished telling you about the first time he’d ever spoken to Mads Mikkelsen, only an inch of water was left in the pitcher you’d ordered, Tom’s wine had long been gone, and you were doubled over with laughter. He seemed pleased by your reaction.

When you finally regained your composure, a deep but comfortable silence fell between you. At some point between enjoying your meal and conversing animatedly, you'd decided to split a Creme Caramel for dessert and had barely noticed the time pass. You both seemed to finally realise when all that was left on the table in front of you were just empty plates and glasses. He looked at his watch and declared, “We should probably ask for the tab.”

You agreed and glanced behind you, noticing from a small analogue clock above the entrance that over three hours had passed since you’d arrived. Most of the tables that had been occupied before were now empty, only a couple was still lingering, looking deep into each other’s eyes and holding hands under the table in a semblance of privacy. You quickly averted your eyes, uneager to intrude on the private moment, and caught sight of the waiter that had welcomed and served you seated now behind the high desk with the cash register. You turned back toward Tom who was fishing his wallet out of his pocket and told him, “I think we can go ahead and pay at the register instead.”

He nodded and stood up, adjusting his jeans and putting on his coat. You quickly did the same, closing up your own jacket and shouldering your bag, a hand already in it and pulling out your own wallet. You walked ahead of him between the tables, determined to be the one to pay for the food this time. He followed close behind and stopped at your side when you got to the cash register.

“Please, let me-” he started, but you were quick to interrupt him.

“Nu-huh,” you said, “You already paid for coffee the other time. And besides, I was the one to invite you to dinner.”

“I insist,” he repeated. You shook your head decisively. “Let’s at least share,” he tried again.

You smiled, “I genuinely appreciate it,” you reassured him, “But I really want to do this.”

At that, he finally conceded, although reluctantly. The waiter gave you your total, and you passed him your card, inputting your security number when needed. He gave it back with a “Thank you”, and you and Tom finally stepped out of the restaurant and into the darkness of the evening, the bell above the door jingling as if to signal the end of the night.

You both knew you had to say goodbye, but neither seemed to want to be the one to let go. You looked at each other hesitantly, and then around you, trying to find a thread of conversation to avoid the inevitable.

“Are you walking home?” he finally spoke.

“Yes,” you nodded, “It’s really quite close.”

“I don’t mean to overstep,” he started, “but it would ease my mind if I could accompany you home. It’s quite dark and I don’t want you to walk alone.”

There seemed to be a tacit understanding that it was in part an excuse to extend the time together, but you were just as unwilling to say goodnight quite yet and internally jumped at the opportunity.

“I would really appreciate it,” you accepted and led the way, crossing the road with Tom on your side and retracing the way you’d taken to get to the restaurant earlier in the day.

As if the several hours you’d just spent together sharing details of your lives had never happened, a thin veil of shyness fell upon the two of you again, the darkness of the sky shrouding you in an intimate bubble. The atmosphere seemed aeons away from the easy chit-chat over the meal, and you could almost taste secrets on the back of your tongue that were threatening to spill out without your control. You couldn’t tell if Tom felt the same, but the lines of his frown and his downward glance told you he was also considering himself carefully.

A tiny nervous giggle tumbled out of your mouth unconsciously, and the intensity of the moment seemed to shatter, leaving room for new words to more easily flow between the two of you.

“Thank you for letting me pay and not insisting too much,” you told him with a small smirk.

“I should be the one to thank you,” he replied, almost chastised. “Actually, it was very rude of me not to, I apologise.”

“Oh no, please,” you reassured him, “It’s completely fine.”

“Nevertheless,” he reiterated, “Thank you for the dinner.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“And thank you for the lovely night,” he added with a shy smile, “I had a wonderful time, I hope we can do this again sometime.”

His words roused a bright flash of excitement and trepidation in your stomach that the rational part of your brain had trouble controlling. You didn’t want to hope for something that might not be there, but you were too sated by good food and good company, and it was hard to squash the instantaneous optimism that awoke in your lungs like a spark. You felt like a hot yellow glow was alighting you from the inside out, and you hoped the smile you could feel on your lips wasn’t too obvious. “I would really like that,” you replied. His own smile grew more confident.

“I would love to cook for you at least once,” he told you, “Maybe even more than once if you’re not too put off by my far-from-excellent skills,” he joked.

You laughed, “I’m sure you’re just being modest.” You kept walking, looking in turn at each other and the road in front of you, “But I would be happy to accept your invitation, and maybe return the favour, too.”

“I’d like that,” he replied.

Silence descended between you again, but it was nothing like the awkward quiet of leaving the restaurant. You just kept walking, your bodies seemed to be getting closer, forearms brushing against each other with every step you took. Soon enough you could see the trees that surrounded your apartment building, and dread at having to separate came with it. The last few steps towards the main entrance felt simultaneously never-ending and incredibly short. You stopped, Tom doing the same, and you turned to each other, ready to say goodnight, but neither of you uttering a word yet.

You looked away for a second, the street was almost completely empty, just a passer-by or two hurrying away without paying too much attention to their surroundings. When you looked into Tom’s eyes again, you found an echo of the intensity from your first meeting on the red carpet. You didn’t feel intimidated in the same way, but your desire not to look away in fear of missing something persisted, anticipation brewing somewhere behind your sternum. You noticed a curved line of consecutive moles high on his cheekbone, next to his left eye, and you became transfixed, unconsciously leaning closer to him. You closed your eyes for just a moment, you could almost feel the warmth of his breath on the side of your nose.

A loud jingling broke you out of your reverie and you stepped back, Tom also seemed to shake off the tightening of his muscles that had kept him anchored to the spot during your strange moment.

A bike went loudly down the street, zooming past you and disappearing behind the first turn.

You giggled nervously, effectively putting a stop to whatever had been passing between you. “This is me,” you announced, quite uselessly.

“Right,” he responded, attempting a smile and brushing a rowdy curl away from his forehead, but only accomplishing to mess it up further by moving it to the wrong side of his head. The nervous gesture eased your mind just a little.

“So, now you know where I live,” you tried again, “Feel free to come around if you find yourself in the area, I’ll gladly make you tea,” you finally managed a natural smile, “or coffee if you prefer that.”

He returned your smile, his shoulders falling back and his posture turning more relaxed, “I will,” it felt like a promise.

“Goodnight, Tom,” you said softly, “Let me know you’re home safe, ok?”

“Goodnight,” he responded just as quietly, “I’ll text you.” He leaned into you one last time, gently kissing you on your right cheek, then started walking away in what you knew was the direction of the tube station.

You turned to the glass entrance of the building and unconsciously touched the spot where his mouth had been, chasing the feeling of his soft lips. You finally dropped your hand and pulled out the keys from your bag, inserting the one you needed in the door to the building. You kept turning to look at his back, unable to keep your eyes off him. Just before he reached a bend in the street, he turned around and your eyes locked again. He took his hand out of the pocket of his coat and waved once, a smile curving his lips. You did the same, then he disappeared behind the corner.

You finally entered your apartment building, your mouth felt like it was full of cotton and your eyes unable to grasp your surroundings. You took the elevator and arrived at the door to your apartment mechanically, only realising you were home when you took off your coat. You hadn’t stopped smiling once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowie! I am so nervous about this chapter, I could talk about it for hours! I went back and edited it so many times, every time I opened it I reread the entire thing and changed something. But I am also so excited for it to be out!! 
> 
> It feels like kind of a big step for me, as I've said before I hadn't written fanfiction in almost a decade, and six is my favourite number! It kind of feels like a good reason to celebrate, especially because it's a huge chapter for me, I was honestly fretting over this since the beginning and it feels big!
> 
> Anyway, I would love to hear what you guys think, I believe I took a risk in giving some of the details of the protagonist even though I also tried to keep it vague as to not alienate anyone who might be reading.  
> However, I would love to know your impressions on this so please please please, your feedback means everything!
> 
> See you next time! And, as usual, you can find me and write to me on Tumblr @writerunsolved :)


	7. Just As Sweet As Coffee And With The Same Aftertaste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You take advantage of a sudden break at work to arrange a pleasant meeting, but things get cut short when a family emergency arises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems that, as much as I try, I can never go below ten days before updating. I truly do try, though.  
> Quick advice: hover the text in French and Italian for a translation (I don't know if this works on mobile, tho)

When you’d gotten home after the dinner, you had just as mechanically divested and put on your pyjamas. Only once you’d laid down on your bed to sleep, had the weight of what had happened finally dawned upon your mind and quickly become a thought to worry about.

In the safety of your bedroom and under the cover of darkness, as well as the more literal duvet that the cold weather had started requiring, your brain had once again begun spinning out of your control providing you with ever new anxieties. You had soon started examining your behaviour during the whole evening, considering the way you’d eaten, laughed, drunk, the subjects you’d decided to talk about, and every single reaction you’d elicited from Tom. But the one thought that had kept circling back throughout your meticulous examination had been that of the almost-kiss you had almost-shared.

Right then, an unbearable feeling of embarrassment had burned inside you like a sudden stab, and you had immediately felt the shame that came with presuming that none of it had been reciprocated. Once the belief that you had forced yourself on poor, polite Tom had taken root in your head, sleep had seemed like a distant memory you had no idea how to chase, nor grasp.

At some point, you had lost any sense of the time passing, so much that only the vibration of your phone on the nightstand had finally made you realise how late it had gotten. When you’d hurriedly snatched it to check who it was, desperate for any kind of distraction from your own train of thought, the single text you had received had been enough to put your mind at ease and make you decide that it was time to try and sleep.

“ _I had a wonderful night,_ ” it had read, “ _I look forward to next time._ ”

You hadn’t answered right then, only seen that it was almost 2 AM and turned around with a smile on your face, determined to rest.

When you finally did wake up, you were drowsy enough that the memory of the previous night wasn’t the first thought in your mind. You checked your phone and saw that it was almost 11 AM, panic shot through you for just a second before you remembered that it was Sunday and you had no work, so you relaxed back into the mattress with a sigh.

You instinctively reached for your phone, mostly to check if you had any new texts, not yet remembering that you still had one from Tom to answer. When you took it in your hand, his notification was still there, hitting you with a mix of undefined emotions.

“ _Hi, and good morning :) I also had a great time, we should meet again soon_ ," you sent him in response. Then, in another text, you added, “ _ _If work allows, of course.__ ”

You wondered just for a moment if it sounded like you were making excuses not to meet again, but your worry was instantly alleviated by him replying “ _I’ll definitely let you know when I’m free again, and I hope you’ll do the same._ ” You agreed and for the rest of the day you texted back and forth like you’d been doing for a while now, and the normalcy of it kept your preoccupations about the night before at bay.

The next few days passed in much the same fashion, with the exception of going back to work on Monday. You were distracted enough with new interviews and finally some meetings to determine when and where your upcoming concert tour would take place, that you barely had time to dwell on your anxieties again.

They had certainly faded from your mind that Wednesday when you were having lunch with Nina at a small place on the same street as the label building.

You were sitting down at a sleek square table, lunch in front of you, and slowly picking at the food while Nina spoke rapidly into her mobile phone. You had no idea what she was talking about, her voice fast enough and low enough that you could only catch a couple of words here and there, like “Liam” and “Be on time” and a whole lot of “No”. You looked distractedly around you, the small restaurant had a cold, minimalistic vibe to it, with polished aluminium tables and chairs. It was the first time you ate there, Nina had been the one to suggest it, you didn’t mind the food but it wasn’t anything special.

A lot of people kept coming and going, only very few opting to sit down in the small space that the restaurant allowed, and most just grabbing paper bags full of food to take away and eat elsewhere. You really didn’t understand the appeal of the place, but you imagined it would certainly be convenient to stop there and pick up a quick meal if you worked in one of the many office buildings of the area.

Your inconsequential thoughts were interrupted by Nina almost slamming the phone down on the tabletop and declaring, “This is why I don’t want interns, they’re only a waste of my time.” She sighed loudly and faced you, shaking off the annoyance of the phone conversation and digging into her lunch with vigour.

“Sorry for that,” she started, carelessly waving her fork around and talking animatedly, “Talking to Liam is like screaming into the wind. He’s always carrying that notepad around and writing everything down, and yet he still calls me for every tiny thing,” she huffed again, “Unbelievable.”

You nodded in sympathy, “I guess it must be hard to keep up with you,” you told her, “Not even I have any idea of the number of things you get done in a single day.”

“Don’t defend him,” she groaned and pointed at you with her fork, you felt mildly threatened, “I know I’m a force to be reckoned with, but if he wants to get anywhere at the label he’s gonna have to learn.”

You replied with a small “Fair enough,” and took another bite of your lunch, Nina did the same.

“This food isn’t all that much,” she commented, “I shouldn’t have trusted Mike, but anyway...” She paused and quickly ate another mouthful or two, then directed her attention at you, “I don’t believe you’ve told me about your dinner the other night.”

Her change of subject surprised you enough that you almost choked on the food you’d just put in your mouth. You started coughing convulsively, barely managing to swallow a crouton before it choked you to death. Nina just looked at you silently, unscrewing the water bottle you were sharing and pouring some of the liquid in your glass. You thanked her with a look and gulped down the water, finally able to breathe normally again.

“Is that a positive or negative answer?” she asked you with a smirk.

You straightened up and gave her a nasty look, “Very funny.”

“It was a little bit funny,” she pushed her thumb and index finger together to show how much, “But mostly it was adorable, I can’t believe how much of a goner you are.”

You spluttered, you were just about to reply when your phone, which had been sitting on the side of your glass, vibrated with a new text alert. You ignored your train of thought in favour of checking the notification but didn’t get any further than seeing that it was from Tom because Nina started laughing. You looked at her, confused by her reaction.

She pointed at the phone you were clutching with the hand still holding her fork, “See, you have no leg to stand on! You literally stopped mid-thought to check if he was sending you a text.”

“I- I wasn’t- I didn’t! I-” you stuttered, trying to find something to defend yourself, “We were just… We were already texting before!” you almost shouted. Then, realising your sudden increase in volume, you cleared your throat and tried again in a much lower voice and a casual shrug, “It would be rude to leave him hanging.”

Nina smiled and rolled her eyes, “Oh, you are just _so_ ,” she elongated the word, “Considerate.”

“Well, excuse me,” you rebutted, an exaggeratedly haughty look on your face.

“Go on,” she urged you, “Read it. I know you’re dying to.”

“I’m not _dying_ to,” you muttered but didn’t hesitate to open up the text. For some reason or other, you and Tom had started talking about the cartoons you used to watch as children, you had no idea how you’d gotten to the subject, and he was just following up on the conversation. You shot back a quick answer and put the phone back on the table.

“Anyway,” Nina started again when she saw you were done, “I really do want to know about dinner. Come on, don’t leave me hanging,” she pouted.

“It was just dinner,” you answered, “There isn’t all that much to say, really...”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” she nodded, “I can tell you don’t want to talk about it.” You wanted to protest, but she continued in a more serious tone, “Just remember that we’re friends, and whenever you’re ready - and if you feel like you need to - you can talk to me, okay?”

You shook your head gently, “I appreciate it, Nina. But, honestly, you’re making it out to be much bigger than it is.”

“I know you, hon,” she repeated, “And I’m pretty sure you’re stressing about this. But I also know that you need time to think about it by yourself, which is fine,” she insisted, “But don’t feel like you have to keep everything inside because you think we’re gonna judge you or something like that.”

“It’s not that,” you sighed and looked down at the table, nervously picking at the edge with your index finger, “I’m just not sure of the situation, and I don’t feel like I’m ready to share what’s going through my mind yet. I need more time to clear my head is all,” you finally admitted and looked up at Nina. She was smiling kindly.

“It’s okay, hon,” she reassured you, “I’ll still be here later.”

You forced yourself to smile back, trying to show your gratitude, but the feeling of being a bad friend was nagging at you. Something in you wanted to push and make you open up, but your insistence to deny that you were feeling anything at all was much stronger. Sometimes you just wished you could be a better friend to the people supporting you.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Nina changed the subject swiftly, “The 4 PM meeting on Friday was cancelled, so you can definitely make other plans for the evening. And Monday, too,” she added, “My parents are gonna be in town, so I’m giving you a day off,” she winked.

“Nice!” you commented, then asked her, “How are your parents by the way? It was so lovely meeting them last May.”

“They’re fine,” she waved a hand dismissively, “They’re enjoying retirement in their dreamy French villa, as usual. You should join us for dinner on Monday, they loved meeting you, too. They were smitten by that _talentueuse jeune fille_ ,” she said the last sentence in an exaggerated French accent, an imitation of her parents’, “And wouldn’t stop talking about you.”

You laughed. The rest of the meal was spent making plans for the dinner on Monday. After that, you both went back to work. Later in the day, you texted Tom to let him know you would be free on Friday afternoon and asked him if he wanted to get coffee. He accepted enthusiastically and promised to discuss specifics later in the day.

-

Amidst your hectic working hours, Friday seemed to come in an instant.

You’d heard from Tom again and, in the end, you’d agreed on going to Caffé Piccolo. You’d mentioned their amazing coffee in previous conversations, and he was thrilled to finally get to experience it too.

That day, you managed to leave work exactly at 4 PM. The morning meetings about the tour had been slow-going and full of technical information you couldn’t do much about. In fact, you weren’t sure why your presence had been required at all, but you hadn’t minded too much and Nina had also been there.

You exited the building and looked at the time on your phone. You and Tom had arranged to meet at a quarter to five in front of Caffé Piccolo, which meant that you still had forty-five minutes to get there, it would be more than enough time to make it without being late. You looked up at the sky, thick grey clouds hovered above the rooftops, promising rain. You frowned, hoping that you would make it home before the weather turned for the worse, then walked away toward the tube station.

You made it to the café with a few minutes to spare and no rain on your path. You briefly considered whether to wait for Tom inside, but in the end, opted to stay where you were. Soon enough, you saw him hurrying down the street from the same direction you’d come, straight from the metro.

When he reached you, you could see that he was wind-swept and that he’d probably ran to make it in time. His hair was in complete disarray and his coat was unbuttoned, showing that he was wearing a soft navy-blue sweater underneath.

“Hi!” he greeted you cheerfully, a huge smile on his lips. He passed a hand through his hair, trying to slide it back in place, but it did very little. “Sorry, I’m late.”

You smiled back, “Oh, don’t worry, you’re not late,” you reassured him, “I got here a bit early, but you’re perfectly on time”.

He touched your shoulder gently and said, “It’s good to see you again,” then, he hugged you tightly.

You felt just as off guard as the first time you’d hugged. You guessed it would take a while before you would get used to it. You obviously didn’t hate it, but you had trouble letting yourself go, though you did try. By the time you separated, you’d even managed to reciprocate the hug.

“So this is the legendary Caffé Piccolo,” he said, looking behind you at the small door, “Did I say it right?”

“I’m not one to judge,” you joked, “But be reassured that if you say it wrong inside, they won’t hesitate to correct you.” He laughed, you added, “And I’m not sure about legendary, but their coffee is certifiably extraordinary.”

“I was excited to try it before, but now I can’t wait one more second. Shall we go in?” he asked, extending a hand towards the door.

You nodded and turned around to make your way inside, keeping the door open for Tom who followed you in and thanked you. You let the door close behind him and looked around, searching for an empty table. You couldn’t see Andrea, at his place at the cash register was his mother Santuzza, who immediately saw you enter and welcomed you with a huge smile.

“Andrea!  _Vieni un attimo alla cassa!_ ” she shouted toward the back, from which Andrea appeared. He quickly took his mother’s place at the cash register so Santuzza could make her way towards you, open arms ready to squeeze you. “ _Gioia mia_ , it’s so nice to see you!”, she spoke with a thick accent and her smile still in place. As soon as she reached you, she threw her arms around you and crushed you into the sweetest hug she could manage.

“Mrs Fusco, I’m happy to see you, too,” you told her when she let you go. You massaged your left side carefully, she had pushed so tightly around you, that you couldn’t help but jam your own elbow into the side of your ribs. You could see Andrea behind her punching in one of the costumers’ order, he raised his eyes from the cash register and spotted you looking back. He greeted you with a small wave of his hand and went back to his task.

“Oh, please, _tesoro mio_ , call me Santuzza. How many times do I have to tell you?” she chastised you, then asked, “What are you doing here, _goia_?”

“I brought a friend to try your magnificent coffee,” you replied, gesturing towards Tom, who was watching the exchange with a tiny smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Fusco,” he told Santuzza, then introduced himself, “I’m Tom, I’ve heard amazing things about your establishment.” He extended his hand, and when Santuzza did the same, he lifted her hand to his lips and gently kissed it. You could immediately see how flattered the gesture had made her and covered your mouth to hide the impressed grin that had bloomed on your lips.

“Oh my,” Santuzza almost blushed, “What a charming young man you have there,” she turned to you, “ _Mi raccomando, amore mio, tienitelo bello stretto._ ”

You laughed slightly, sure that the compliment had made Tom bashful, but not of what Santuzza had told you with her last sentence.

“Enjoy the coffee,” she told you both and went back to her place at the cash register, pushing Andrea back towards the kitchen in the back.

“You speak Italian?” Tom asked you while you made your way to one of the small tables next to the large window that overlooked the front of the store.

You took off your coat and draped it on the back of your chair before sitting down, Tom did the same. “Not really,” you told him, “I’m not sure what she said, to be honest, I only understand the pet names because she uses them so much.”

“I see,” he replied, “She was calling you ‘love’, and ‘joy’, and ‘treasure’. I can understand a little Italian, but not enough to know what she told you, I’m afraid,” he explained.

“That’s impressive!” you commented, widening your eyes, “You should teach me what you know sometime.”

“Why not,” he smiled, then changed the subject, “I assume you come here a lot, you seem very close with the owner.”

“Owners, actually,” you specified, “Santuzza and her husband Giovanni opened the café with their son Andrea.” Tom was listening interestedly. “From what I know, Andrea went to a business university here in London. When he went back to Italy after that, he convinced his parents to move to London too and to open Caffé Piccolo,” you explained, “They already had a small place back in Italy, and he believed they could really get somewhere with their coffee specialities.”

Tom looked around, almost every other table in the room was occupied, and there were several people waiting in line for their coffee at the counter. “I think he might have had the right idea,” he joked, referring to the small crowd.

You chuckled. “I know I amped up their coffee _a lot_ ,” you emphasised the last two words, “But I swear I wasn’t lying.”

Before Tom could answer, Andrea had reemerged from the back of the café and was approaching your table. “ _Bellezza_ , it’s been a while,” he greeted you. He looked around and towards the entrance before continuing, “No Nina today?”

“Hey, Andrea,” you greeted him with a smile, “Nope, no Nina.” He sighed in relief. “I brought a new friend today.”

At that, Andrea noticed Tom, who was sitting cross-legged in front of you with a small smirk, and gulped. He spluttered several times before squeaking out, “I didn’t know you were friends with Tom Hiddleston.”

You snickered at Andrea’s loss for words, he was probably mourning Nina’s absence just then.

“Hi, Andrea, nice to meet you,” Tom offered his hand to shake, still smirking and going along with your teasing.

Andrea took it and said, “It’s the same for me, Mr Hiddleston.”

Behind Andrea’s back, you widened your mouth in amused surprise and outrage: Andrea had never been that polite to Nina and you!

“Please, just Tom,” he answered. When their hands separated, Andrea took a step back and looked between you and Tom squaring his shoulders in the semblance of a professional demeanour, and asked, “Are you ready to order?”

You glanced at Tom and asked him, “Would you mind if I ordered for you?”

“Please,” he replied, “Go ahead.”

“Do you like chocolate?” you asked him one last time, and when he nodded you turned to Andrea and finally said, “We’ll have a _Marocchino_ and a _Caffé al Ginseng_ , please.” Andrea, who had taken out a small notepad, wrote the order down and nodded, leaving the two of you and walking back towards the counter.

“I’m kind of curious about what you just ordered,” Tom started, “But I also want to keep the surprise alive,” he joked. You laughed. A beat or two of silence passed before he spoke again, “I was surprised by your text,” he said, “Pleasantly, of course. Did you get a long weekend?”

“No, actually,” you explained, “The afternoon meeting for today was cancelled, and since it was the last appointment for today, I thought I’d let you know and see if you were free too.”

“Well, thank you for that,” he replied, “I was glad you thought of me.”

You blushed, “No problem,” you almost mumbled, smiling shyly. Then asked, “Did you also get a half-day?”

“Unfortunately not,” he lifted the corner of his mouth in a bitter smile, “I was free this morning, but I have a work dinner later tonight.”

“Oh, I see. What time do you need to get going?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied with a brush of his hand, “It’s not until eight.”

You were going to say more when Andrea approached your table again, carrying a round metal tray. He set half of it on the table, keeping the other half up with his hand, and started moving the cups out of it. He set two glasses filled with water on the table, then said, “A _Marocchino_ here,” and deposited a small plate with a slightly larger than usual espresso cup filled to the brim with a deep brown chocolate and coffee concoction in front of Tom, then a smaller one with what looked like a very weak coffee in front of you, “And a _Caffé al Ginseng_ for you.” You were about to thank him, but he added, “And I brought some _Cantuccini_. Dad made them this morning, let me know what you think,” and winked at you.

“Thank you, Andrea,” you told him. He nodded, picking up the tray and holding it in front of him, then left with a quick friendly touch to your shoulder.

You looked back at Tom, he was observing Andrea intently, but when he noticed you were looking at him he smiled with a raise of his eyebrows and said, “Shall we?”

You nodded and picked up your cup, he did the same, taking a whiff of the beverage before bringing it to his lips. You took a drink of your coffee and surveyed him from the top of your cup, trying to gauge his reaction. He finally tasted the liquid and, as soon as it touched his tongue, he let out an appreciative moan.

“This is amazing!” he commented, visibly impressed.

You set your already almost empty cup back on the table and reached for the half-moon shaped cookies, taking one. “I’m glad to hear that,” you smiled, then took a bite.

“So I can definitely taste the chocolate and coffee,” he stated, “But how is this made exactly? And what is the one you ordered?”

You swallowed the cookie bite and replied, “I’ve been told _Marocchino_ is not actually coffee, but a separate beverage. Although it _is_ made with coffee and also sweetened milk cream, in addition to dark chocolate, of course.” He nodded in agreement. “And the one I got is made with Ginseng extract and milk, mixed with espresso, which is why it looks like watered down coffee,” you explained, “Would you like to try some?”

“Oh, no, thank you. Maybe next time,” he smiled, then reached for the cookies. You looked at him expectantly, ”Wow! These are incredible,” he exclaimed, “I’ve had _Cantucci_ before, but these are really good.”

“Glad it lived up to your expectations,” you joked.

He laughed then said, “I hope you don’t mind me asking. You said you had a meeting that was cancelled, what would it have been about?”

“It’s totally fine,” you reassured him, “We’ve been in talks about my upcoming world tour for the last few days.”

“That’s amazing! Have you worked out the details yet?”

“Not yet, no,” you replied, “The dates for the European part are more or less all decided,” you explained, “But the American part is still a little foggy. Nina, my manager, was trying to keep them pretty cohesive, but the higher-ups have been saying that they’d rather have me take a break after all the European concerts are done and wait a couple of months before we move the tour to North America.”

He hummed pensively, “That doesn’t seem very intuitive,” he considered, “When are you going to start travelling around for it?”

You made a dismissive gesture with your hand and said, “Oh, not until next May, so there’s still a lot of time to argue about specifics,” you joked. “What about you?” you asked him then, “Any new projects in the near future? Something to do with tonight’s dinner?”

“Tonight is actually for some promotional appearances for that voice acting project I told you about before,” he responded, “But I should start on something new in a couple of weeks...”

You spent the next hour talking about work and pleasantly chit-chatting about your personal lives. The atmosphere of the café made you feel at ease more than the restaurant had a few days before. Something about the familiarity of the environment and the repeated experience of going out with Tom helped you relax like you hadn’t quite been able to do the first time you’d eaten together. Tom seemed just as serene in the more low-profile setting. Either way, you barely noticed the time passing by, marked by the arrival of a text from your sister some hour and a half later.

You ignored it at first, unwilling to interrupt the conversation and be impolite, but when more texts kept coming, you had to excuse yourself and check in case of an emergency.

“ _Ben just broke up with me_ ,” the texts said, “ _Can I sleep at yours tonight?_ ” and then, in lack of a response, “ _I'll be there at seven._ ”

The surprise and worry must have shown on your face because Tom asked you, “Is everything okay?”

“I am so sorry,” you apologised, putting away your phone, “I really don’t want to cut this short, but my sister just told me she’s coming over to sleep at my house.”

“Did something happen?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” you replied, “Something with her boyfriend. I’m honestly so sorry,” you insisted.

“Oh, no, please, it’s okay,” he reassured you, “It’s almost time I get going, too. Let me use the restroom first and then we can go, okay?”

You nodded. He quickly left the table, so you started gathering your things, putting on your coat and taking out your wallet from your bag. When he came back, you waited for him to do the same and told him, “I’m gonna go ahead and pay.”

He hesitated, then told you with a guilty look, “I already did that.” You were about to protest, but he continued, with a conciliatory smile, “I promise I’ll let you pay next time.” You didn’t believe him, but you dropped the issue with a small shake of your head and a playful roll of your eyes.

Soon enough, you walked out of the café, waving goodbye to Andrea at the counter. You couldn’t see his mom anymore so you mouthed, “Say bye to your parents for me.” Andrea nodded and went back to work, and you finally left.

Before leaving, you and Tom stopped on the curb in front of the café to say bye. “I would have liked to stay a little longer,” you told him, “I’m really sorry.”

“Please, don’t apologise anymore,” he said, looking intensely into your eyes. He leaned a gentle hand on your shoulder, “I’m sure we can meet again soon,” he continued, unconsciously playing with the lapel of your coat.

You smiled timidly, “I hope so too,” you told him, “I had a great time, good luck with dinner.”

“Thanks,” he responded, “Let me know if something serious happened with your sister and if I can do anything, okay?” You nodded, he dropped his hand from your shoulder, “I’ll see you soon,” he said finally and turned away with a small wave.

You waved back and turned around, walking in the opposite direction, on the path to your house. When you got there, your sister was waiting in front of the main door, huddled onto herself like she was cold and looking dejected. When she saw you approaching, she ran towards you and buried her head in your neck, expecting a hug. You squeezed her and tenderly caressed her hair back. When you separated, her eyes were wet with tears. “Let’s get you inside,” you told her softly, and took out the keys to the entrance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time, too, thank you for reading!  
> Just as a reminder, I made a whole Tumblr blog dedicated to this one fic which you can find @writerunsolved.  
> Once again, thank you so much for all your comments and kudos so far, you guys are the best!  
> If you have trouble reading the translations of the French and Italian text, let me know in the comments and I'll try to find another solution!  
> See you soon!


	8. Whispered Words And Jumping Sparks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelia's troubles come to pass as quickly as they arrived, the worry mitigated by a relaxing and unexpected invite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience!  
> This one took a while to get fished out of whatever place it is I get my muse, but it did come out in the end.  
> Fun fact: with this chapter we've officially surpassed the length of Animal Farm by George Orwell and we're a few words away from Charlie And The Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl!  
> I don't know about you, but I find it very exciting!  
> Hope you enjoy!

****You spent the next couple of days alternatively nursing your sister’s broken heart, and trying - without much success - to understand what happened. Amelia, for her own part, couldn’t do much more than cry and eat ice cream. Ben and she hadn’t been together long, but the relationship had seemed serious enough that you could perfectly understand your sister’s sorrow. In the last period, they’d even been considering getting a house together, which was one of the reasons you were struggling to guess what could have been grave enough to end the relationship.

 ****You didn’t press the issue, Amelia seemed far from keen on sharing the details, so you just made sure he hadn’t laid a hand on her and that she was settled in as comfortably as you could make her. To you, Ben didn’t seem that kind of man, and it luckily turned out he wasn’t, but you could never be too careful.

 ****From the little information you’d managed to gather, Amelia had gone home after work on Friday and she’d had some kind of argument with Ben - about what you didn’t know - after which she’d hastily decided to pack a few clothes and move to your house until she could be sure Ben wouldn’t go to hers again. However, Ben had easily guessed where he would be able to find her and, by Sunday morning, he’d come knocking at your door.

 ****You were still completely clueless about the reason for their falling out when Ben profusely apologised to Amelia, saying that he was wrong and that he had made a huge mistake by hurting her and making her believe he didn’t love her anymore. He insisted that he’d been stupid, acting like a scared child and that he wanted to work hard so that she could forgive him. For her part, Amelia had made him promise that he would talk about his problems next time so that they could solve them together, and had accepted to let him accompany her home. She’d quickly gathered the few things she’d brought and reassured you that she was fine, with the promise to let you know when she got home.

 ****You were briefly tempted to pull Ben aside before they left to ensure that he wouldn’t hurt your sister again, but he turned to you before you had a chance to do so and said with a regretful expression on his face, “I’m sorry,” so you decided to drop it and let them go on their way.

 ****You closed the door behind them and let out a sigh of relief. Now that you were alone, you felt like you’d been keeping your breath for the whole time Amelia had been there. Seeing your usually cheerful sister in such pain had made you restless, and hidden worry had been quietly eating at you for the whole time.

 ****You looked around at the empty house and wondered what to do. Amelia had completely disrupted any plans you might have made for the weekend - not that you’d had any in the first place - and with Monday off too, you found yourself at a complete loss for how to fill your free time. You resolved to make some comfort food after the crisis and to text Tom to let him know what had happened. You’d completely neglected your usual conversation in favour of assisting your sister, but he’d been worried too when you’d left the café and it only seemed right to make him privy to what was going on.

 ****You entered the kitchen and started rummaging through your fridge and cabinet, determined to make a bowl of hot soup. The weather had finally turned for the worst the previous day, and an icy rain had been tapping incessantly at the windows of your apartment since the night. You managed to find some fresh pumpkin that you’d picked up during the week, so you took it out and gathered the ingredients to make pumpkin soup, leaving them on the kitchen island while you texted Tom before starting on the food preparations.

 ****“ _Hey_ ,” you wrote, “ _I’m sorry I didn’t text sooner, my sister just left and I’ve been away from my phone to be with her._ ”

 ****You put your phone aside and started cutting and peeling the pumpkin. A few minutes later, you received an answer.

 ****“ _Hi, I’m so glad to hear from you_ ,” he replied, “ _Is everything okay? How is your sister?_ ”

 ****“ _She’s better now, she and her boyfriend had an argument and she crashed at mine._ ” You distractedly texted back, while continuing to work on your food. The exchange went back and forth like that for a while.

 ****“ _I’m very sorry to hear that, is she going to be okay?_ ”

 ****“ _Well, the thing is_ ,” you wrote, “ _He actually came and apologised and I guess they’re back together now?_ ”

 ****“ _That sure is a rollercoaster… a short one_ ,” he joked, “ _ut a rollercoaster nonetheless._ ”

 ****You couldn’t help smiling down at your phone, grateful for the attempt to cheer you up. “ _Haha I know, right? But I’m relieved they sorted things out..._ ” You went back to the food briefly, then sent more, “ _Anyway, how’s your weekend going?_ ”

 ****“ _Pretty uneventful_ ,” he replied, “ _I met my younger sister for breakfast in the morning, but I don’t have plans for the rest of the day. What about you?_ ”

 ****“ _My sister was kind of unexpected, but aside from that, I didn’t really have anything planned to start with. And I have tomorrow off too, so that’s going to be a lot of free time with nothing to do._ ”

 ****“ _Oh, wow! Long weekend? Is anything happening tomorrow?_ ”

 ****“ _Oh, no, nothing like that. Nina’s (my manager) parents are visiting from France and she’s giving me a day off too. I’m actually meeting them for dinner tomorrow_.”

 ****“ _That sounds nice,_ ” he wrote back. You kept stirring the quickly-cooking pumpkin and after a few seconds, he wrote again, “ _So no plans at all for tonight?_ ”

 ****“ _Nope, nada, zilch._ ”

 ****“ _Would you like to go to dinner? My treat._ ”

 ****Your heart missed a beat or two, his invite both unexpected and exciting. You took a deep breath and turned off the heat, gathering your composure. Then you finally texted back, “ _I’d like that :) but if I remember correctly, it’s my turn to pay._ ”

 ****You grabbed a bowl from the cabinet above the sink and made to pour the creamy liquid into it. When your phone vibrated again, you looked away from your hands for just a second, trying to peer at the notification preview and in doing so, spilt some of the bright orange soup on the marble countertop of your kitchen island. You cursed and hastened to put the small pot back on the stove while you grabbed a couple of tissues to clean up the stain, ultimately unable to see what Tom had replied.

 ****When you finally managed to get a hold of your phone, you saw that he’d written, “ _That’s true in theory, but I’m the one inviting you so etiquette dictates I’m the one who pays,_ ” accompanied by a winky face.

 ****You smirked and wrote back, “ _Sigh… I can sense a losing battle, so I’ll let it go this time..._ ” followed by, “ _But I have a good memory._ ”

 ****He sent back an open-mouthed smiling face, then asked, “ _Any cuisine preferences?_ ”

 ****“ _Is it my turn to choose?_ ” you asked him in turn, buying time while you thought about it.

 ****“ _Why not, I was the one to choose Mama Thai so I guess it’s only fair._ ”

 ****“ _How gentlemanly_ ,” you joked, still unsure. Then, you remembered that Nadia had been raving about what she claimed to be the best vegetarian restaurant in the whole of London. Before he answered, you added, “ _Actually, I might have a place in mind._ ”

 ****-

 ****You left your house just past 6:30 that evening, having agreed to meet on location at 7:15 PM. The rain had thankfully let up earlier in the afternoon, but it wouldn’t have mattered either way seen as you were going to take the subway to the meeting spot. The restaurant Nadia had been talking about wasn’t too far from King’s Cross station, you’d texted her asking for the name during your conversation with Tom and had reported back to him to make the arrangements to meet. You would have to take the same tube line as when you went to work, and it would take you around half an hour to get there.

 ****You’d kept texting Tom through your lunch and for a couple more hours after that and, when you’d gotten off the phone, you’d looked up the restaurant to decide on an outfit. You’d ended up selecting a fairly casual ensemble composed by a peachy tan silk shirt half-tucked into a pair of light blue mid-rise skinny jeans. You completed the look with a pair of black suede boots and your trusted mid-thigh black coat which you used almost every day. You were strangely aware of Linda’s absence this time, and you almost missed her irreverent opinion and determination to do your makeup, especially when you finally made up your mind and decided to forgo it entirely.

 ****You thought you might have run late when your hair-drier had suddenly stopped working, but you managed to borrow your neighbour Laura’s - who was thankfully home - and you left your house almost perfectly on time if a few minutes later than you’d planned to.

 ****Nevertheless, you arrived at the restaurant a little earlier than anticipated and resolved to wait for Tom outside, when you saw that he was already waiting for you a few steps away from the entrance. He was listening intently to what you supposed was a call on his phone, distractedly looking down on the ground and adjusting a fold on his shirt through his opened coat every few seconds without much thought. You approached him slowly, making time to take him in and unwilling to interrupt the call. You could see his mouth move but you weren’t close enough to hear what he was saying, but you did hear the surprised thrill of a laugh at whatever the person on the other end had said.

 ****You felt tender warmth bloom in your chest. Then, for a split second, a wave of anxiety washed over you, like a portent of fear and danger, but the feeling was gone before you could put your finger on it, leaving behind the prick of confusion. You brushed off the strange sensation, determined to enjoy the evening.

 ****When you finally reached him, Tom was putting his phone away into his pocket and lifting his eyes. He spotted you to his left and greeted you with a sweet smile, turning his entire body towards you and immediately going in to kiss you on both cheeks. You reciprocated the gesture instinctively, your body allowing no time at all for hesitation to settle in.

 ****“Hi!” you blurted, a little louder than you’d intended. His smile widened. You got your voice under control and spoke again, “Sorry for making you wait.”

 ****“It’s no problem at all. I only just got here myself,” he reassured you. “I’m so glad we could meet again,” he paused for a second. His smile turned shy and he hesitantly added, “You look gorgeous.”

 ****“I- I...” you stuttered, at loss for words. You felt like your face was on fire. You hoped with your entire being that your cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. “Thank you,” you finally mumbled, returning his smile.

 ****“You’re very welcome,” he replied. Then he gestured to the door and asked, “What do you say we go in?” You nodded, he pulled the door open and waited for you to enter before following behind you. You hurried inside, surreptitiously touching one of your reddened cheeks, internally chastising yourself for your embarrassment.

 ****As soon as the door closed behind Tom, a blonde woman wearing a black polo shirt with the name of the restaurant stitched on the chest in thick red thread approached you. “Table for two?” she asked, looking between you.

 ****“Yes, please,” was Tom’s reply.

 ****“Please follow me,” she smiled politely, then turned around and started walking towards a row of tables overlooking the street outside.

 ****You followed closely behind, zigzagging through occupied tables, Tom at your side.

 ****Soon enough, you got to your table. You and Tom stopped, while the waitress continued past you to a small wooden structured pushed to the wall where some cutlery and glasses were kept, along with various condiments and a stack of menus. She grabbed two and got back to you, settling them down between you and Tom. He thanked her, and then she was gone.

 ****You took off your coat and sat down, looking around.

 ****The place was a spacious room with tables of different styles, unified by the same colour palette. High windows surrounded two sides of the restaurant, offering a comforting look at the eerie glow of the nightlife outside. Alongside the windows, the tables were higher and the seats consisted of dark wooden stools you were grateful not to have been seated at. The rest of the seatings were arranged in two more rows, one of which was separated from the main corridor of small light beige tables by ornate wooden panels.

 ****Families, as well as young couples, filled the space that appeared moderately crowded but not stifled. A convivial murmur flowed over the entire place, reaching the elegant bar located at the left end of the room, where more wooden stools allowed patrons to grab a drink without the commitment of dinner. The atmosphere was relaxed and homey but carefully curated like restaurant chains tend to be.

 ****“I like the place,” Tom spoke, breaking your observations.

 ****You turned to him and smiled, “Yeah, it feels very cosy.” He’d taken his coat off too and draped it on the back of his chair, which gave you a better look at what he was wearing. He was more put together than the first time, he’d gone for jeans again but this time he’d opted for a white shirt and a dark blue suit jacket instead of a sweater. His hair was as wild as ever, you could almost picture him absent-mindedly moving his unruly curls out of his face. Just as you were thinking this, one of his curls fell on his forehead. He moved it away and to the wrong side, leaving it sticking up and out from the rest of his hair. You tried to hide the small affectionate smile that took over your face.

 ****A moment of silence fell between you. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it seemed like Tom was determined to say something he couldn’t quite gather the courage to push out. He inadvertently shook his head in a small movement, as if putting aside whatever thought was going through his mind. Then he looked up at you with a gentle smile and said, “We should probably check out the menu.”

 ****You nodded and handed him one of the menus, then grabbed one for yourself. “Shall we share like last time?” you asked him.

 ****“I’d like that, yes,” he replied, so you both concentrated on the list in front of you.

 ****A few minutes passed, and eventually, you both made up your minds. The waitress came over to take your orders almost as soon as you put down the menus and shortly after you were served drinks.

 ****“So, how was your day?” you asked with a nervous but sincere smile, the awkwardness getting to you. You had no idea why you couldn’t seem to make yourselves talk as easily as last time. Even then, it had definitely been slow-going in the beginning, but some embarrassment for a first-time dinner was to be expected. However, you’d met several times now and the painstaking rhythm of your current conversation was starting to take a toll on you.

 ****Tom swallowed the sip of the Roasted Pecan Old Fashioned he’d ordered and smiled back. “It was pretty relaxed,” he answered, “I met my sister in the morning,” - you nodded, he’d said as much in his texts - “But the afternoon was quite slow. How about you? Are you feeling better after what happened with Amelia?”

 ****“Oh, yes, I think so,” you played idly with your own cocktail glass, “I heard from her after we talked, and she seemed to have made up with her boyfriend.”

 ****“Did you manage to find out what happened?” he asked, polite curiosity clear on his face.

 ****“I actually didn’t,” you shook your head and laughed incredulously, “She only sent me a text saying that she was fine, that they were fine.” You shrugged, “Other than that, no explanation.”

 ****He laughed too, “Your sister is quite something.” Then, he seemed to catch himself and hastily retracted, ”That sounded so rude, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean-”

 ****“Oh, no, don’t worry,” you interrupted him, smiling reassuringly, “I get what you mean. It was kind of a weird situation for me, too. But in the end, I’m just glad everything worked out for the best.”

 ****He nodded, ”Yeah, I’m happy for them. Have they been together long?”

 ****You frowned and looked away, trying to think back to when they started going out. “Uhm… Not very long, no.” You looked back to him and added, “About half a year, I believe. But they did seem to hit it off pretty quickly.” Tom took another sip from his drink and kept listening attentively. You explained, “My sister was super in love straight from the beginning, and it did seem reciprocated. He’s already met our parents, too, it got serious pretty fast.”

 ****He put down his glass and nodded, looking to his lap for just a second. He reached for his glass again but before taking it in his hand he paused and thought better of it. He hesitated, then he finally spoke, “And… Uhm… What about you?”

 ****He was looking intently at you, examining you for an answer, but you weren’t quite sure what he was asking about. You fidgeted nervously but tried not to let your smile falter. “What about me?” you asked him.

 ****He cleared his throat and, with a small wave of his hand, he explained, “I mean, you and Andrea from the café seemed pretty close, are you together?” and looked at you expectantly, frowning slightly and touching his lips with a finger pensively.

 ****You sputtered, opening your mouth several times with no sound coming out. You were completely taken off guard and had no idea what to say. “Oh! No! No, no no, no no no,” you blurted, that was definitely too many No’s. A laugh croaked out of you unintentionally, you slapped your hand on your lips attempting to cover up the noise. When you’d finally regained control over your mouth you tried again, more calmly, “No, we’re not.”

 ****His smile returned at last, and his posture seemed to relax. You hadn’t noticed the tension in his shoulders, but once it was gone, it was unmistakable. He sat back in his chair and fingered one of the corners of his folded napkin on the side of his plate. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply, you just seemed very friendly-”

 ****“Oh no, I mean, we are,” you confirmed, “But that’s just because we’ve known each other for almost two years now,” you explained. You laughed slightly at the thought, and added, “He has a huge crush on Nina, actually.”

 ****“Oh,” he considered, “Oh!” He seemed to come to a realisation. “I didn’t- I mean… I don’t- Is that,” he stuttered, “Is that something that bothers you?” You frowned, confused, so he elaborated, “Is it an unrequited interest situation?”

 ****“No! No,” you denied vehemently, “No, oh my god, not at all.” You couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ve known him since before I signed with the label, and he’s always been so supportive,” you clarified, “He’s like a very encouraging brother to me. And his parents have been so kind, too.”

 ****“Oh, I see,” he sighed. He seemed somewhat relieved, “Well, I guess I hope things go well for him. With Nina, I mean,” he finished.

 ****You winced slightly, “Eh… I don’t know about that.” You saw the confusion on his face so you told him, “Nina is a lesbian,” you smiled.

 ****“Ah,” he rubbed at his neck skittishly and smiled nervously, “I had no idea, sorry. I seem to be putting my foot in my mouth a lot tonight.”

 ****You laughed, “It’s completely fine. And well, seen as I’m usually the one doing that, it’s a nice change of pace for once,” you joked.

 ****At that, he laughed too. You lifted your cocktail to your mouth and took another drink. Just then, the waitress accosted your table, carrying several plates with your order in her arms. She put them down in front of you and you both thanked her, finally digging in.

 ****You moved the food around from plate to plate, dividing the dishes you’d ordered so you could both try everything, and spent a couple of minutes just sampling and commenting the dinner. Then the conversation picked up again.

 ****You braced yourself and, trying to gather your courage in the most nonchalant way you could manage, between one bite and the other, you asked him, “And what about you? Are you seeing someone?” Immediately, something in your lower stomach squeezed tight, anticipation from his answer growing steadily in your belly. You looked at him and brought the fork to your lips again, trying to masquerade your nervousness.

 ****He swallowed the bite he’d been chewing and patted at his lips with his napkin. Then he smiled and looked up at you. “Not at the moment, no,” he said, without elaborating further.

 ****His answer was more than enough for your nervousness to dissipate, the painful grip of worry releasing your lungs. Your lips moved to reciprocate his smile and you said briefly, “Oh, I see,” before taking another bite.

 ****You both continued eating, idly chatting away the dinner. Around 9:30 PM, the waitress who’d welcomed you approached your table again and took away your empty plates. Shorty after she came by asking if you’d like dessert and, as you’d already done the first time you’d had dinner together, you opted to share and ordered a slice of Forest Berry Mousse Cake. In what felt like no time at all, that was gone too, and all that remained for you to do was nurse the last inch of cocktail that was left in both your glasses.

 ****You decided it was time to leave when the waitress neared your table again, asking if you cared for something else or if you wanted for her to bring the bill. You accepted the bill and, as you’d predicted, Tom insisted on being the one to pay. You could tell by his determination that there was no way to win the argument and resignedly accepted his kindness, thanking him profusely. You both grabbed your coats and put them on, exiting the restaurant right after. As you’d also done before, you stopped on the curb on the side of the restaurant door again and Tom asked you, “Are you taking the tube?”

 ****“Yeah,” you nodded, “I’m taking the Northern like towards Morden, how about you?”

 ****“I’m also taking that one, but in the direction toward Edgware,” he replied, then, “We can walk to the station together if you’d like.”

 ****You agreed enthusiastically, “Of course!” And so you started walking through the people passing by pressed side to side.

 ****“Thank you so much for coming out tonight,” he said, hands pushed deep into the pockets of his coat and head turned to you so he could look into your eyes. He was smiling gently.

 ****“Oh, no, I should be the one thanking you,” you protested, absentmindedly playing with one of the corners of your bag, “It was a welcome distraction after the whole ordeal with Amelia, and I had a great time.”

 ****“Me, too,” he replied, “But it was kind of on short notice, so I would have understood if you’d said no.”

 ****You smiled and looked ahead to the road, uncertain if you could say the next few words while looking in his eyes, “I would never have,” you almost whispered. He didn’t respond, and you instinctively looked up, the curiosity to see the expression on his face too strong to resist.

 ****He wasn’t looking at you anymore. He’d lowered his eyes to the pavement, and for a second you thought you’d embarrassed him. You were ready to apologise but just then, you saw a small smile grace his lips, and you noticed the faintest blush high on his cheeks. You looked away again, and another smile flourished on your own lips, filling your mouth with delightful sweetness. Something in your chest exploded with the tiniest pop, and your skin prickled as if dotted by sparklers.

 ****He finally lifted his eyes and looked straight into yours, the smile on his face growing surer and brighter. He offered you his elbow, and you leaned your hand in the bend of his arm, getting ever closer. You spent the remainder of the walk in companionable silence, heat spreading into your bodies from the spot where you touched.

 ****When you reached the station, you stopped a little ways from the entrance and separated, facing each other.

 ****“Thank you,” you told him. If pressed, you wouldn’t have been able to explain what you were thanking him for, but it didn’t seem to matter because he pressed close to you and delicately put his arms around your shoulders. The tenderness of the hug left you breathless, disarmed to the point of being unable to reciprocate for the first few seconds. When you regained clarity, you squeezed him back.

 ****After what felt like an endless time, he let you go.

 ****“I’ll see you soon,” he told you, and you both went your separate ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if I resolved Amelia's situation in a satisfying manner, I tried to keep it vague enough that it wouldn't take centre stage, but also wanted for Ben to be redeemed enough for it to feel organic.  
> I do have an idea of what happened between the two of them, it just didn't feel necessary to explain in the story. But if you guys would prefer I go into it in more detail, leave a comment and I'll try to resolve it in more detail! :D
> 
> Anyway, don't know what else to say...  
> Thank you for reading and go watch The Umbrella Academy if you haven't yet!


End file.
